


Gem Fire

by quart1146



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-08-28 20:06:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 34,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8461216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quart1146/pseuds/quart1146
Summary: November is Nano month.And I've signed up to write a new story of 50,000 words in a month.Yeah, I guess I like insanity.Gives me something to do.Sorry, just like the damn show, there's no Olicity. (Sorry about that.) John Diggle will cameo and there is a reference to Felicity helping out. Besides that this story is my own creation, and I own all rights to my story. So, what you have here is a totally new story that I'd thought I'd share with my readers. The name of the story is "Gem Fire," and I think it's going to be a great ride.Hope you ENJOY!I think it's going to be intense.And hope you talk to me. Let me know what you think.Summary:Betty Joe Taylor could really sing. After marrying her childhood sweet heart, Joel Phillips, she became a breakout artist named Gem Fire since she was a Gem and her world was on fire.Yet life as a superstar is hard. Joel's changed, and when the opportunity to escape his abuse presents itself, she jumps at the chance. But can she really stay dead? Now that's the question.





	1. Chapter 1

 

#####GF#####

Fingers fumbling, she tried to recover the missed chord, but she had totally missed the rift now, and she slung the twelve string behind her.

John, her lead guitarist, jumped in and recovered for her, as she gave up on trying to find the chords and just belted out the last refrain.

Off stage, in the wings, she saw Joel, her husband, slash manager, frown deeply and she knew she was in trouble.

Again.

Sweat poured off of her, as she finished up the last set, waving, smiling at the one hundred and fifty thousand fans that were on their feet screaming her name, as she thanked them and blew them air kisses.

And all she could think about was she was glad this concert was almost over.

It should have made her happy.

The fame.

The glory.

The impossible dream that she was living.

But she was so darn tired that all she could think was thank God it was almost over.

Fame was truly hard.

Handing her lovely twelve string guitar off, the one that sounded like angels were singing when she did her best to play it, she nodded at Greg, a roadie, and he grinned at her.

A stage hand named Beth handed her a cold bottle of water, and she chugged it quickly.

The crowd stomped and screamed as the band launched into one last song, an encore from her first album that had gone three times platinum.

From back in the beginning of her career, when being on the road had been new and still fun and she'd been living the good life.

She could sing this song in her sleep and maybe play it too, without messing up, on a good day, which today wasn't.

Head pounding, she finished the song.

Pasting on a fake smile, she readied herself to meet the fans after the show, knowing she still had to give her fans her all, knowing she had one chance to make an impression with the fans. However, with her head pounding and coming down with something no matter how much she loved them she had to suffer through until she could finally collapse in her bed in the tour bus, thankful that there was safely in numbers.

Her husband, slash manager, would have to keep his hands off her. If she could just reach the safety of the crowded bus, since she knew he was going to make a big deal of her missing the rift.

And it wasn't that she minded the fans.

No, she loved them and understood that they were the life blood of her business, but she was just so darn tired.

The tour was almost over and never again did she want to do this many cities in so few days.

It was past exhausting.

But, Joel'd insisted.

She had a feeling he was in debt to the bookies again but the last time she'd questioned him, he'd flown off the handle and had choked her into unconsciousness, and she had woken up battered and bruised.

Shame kept her silent and Joel knew it.

Yes, Joel knew just how to push her buttons.

Divorce him and he would ruin her and someday when she least expected it he would tell all and that precious young sister would be gone.

He would make sure that she disappeared. Over and over, he had told her.

Her little sister would go missing.

And her good girl image that they had worked so hard for would be over.

And he had beaten her up enough times now that she believed he would hurt her.

Yes, he would hurt her sister to hurt her.

His smile'd been evil as he threatened to go to the press with pictures he'd taken while she had been young and foolish.

Back when she had believed she was in love.

Yes, he'd promised to ruin her, and she would have let him if not for her baby sister.

Joel was cruel beneath that pampered handsome face, and she'd had firsthand experience.

And love was something she no longer believed in.

Joel'd quietly strong armed, slapped, punched, pinched and kicked every last bit of love that she had in her out.

Repeatedly.

Oh, he was normally smart enough not to leave marks on her face.

Most of the time.

But he was good at leaving bruises where they couldn't be seen.

And he was good at hiding the bad.

Happy Joel was charming, attentive and walking on air but then there was the other side of the coin when nothing she did pleased him.

When he didn't sleep.

When he ranted and raved.

And she'd had a feeling today was the other side of the coin.

He'd met with the IRS today, and she already knew there were problems.

That she wasn't paying in enough.

Yes, she sang to sold out arenas but she had a feeling between his gambling bills, his drugs, his parties and the IRS, her money was already spent.

Signing autographs, smiling for fan selfies, she acted happy and got it done, until finally she made it to the large room that was her dressing room.

Putting her head in her hands, she was so bone weary, to weary to deal with Joel but that didn't stop him from banging on the door.

"Open up, Gem."

Trembling, she stood, knowing that not letting him in would just cause a scene and hurt more later.

So, forcing herself, she turned the lock and stepped back as he pushed his way in.

Gerald, one of her body guards, stepped slowly aside, with a clear frown, he let Joel pass, and she looked down for she knew that Gerald knew.

"Do you think you could play guitar any worse than you did tonight? Ten times, no twenty, I want you to practice that rift."

Biting her lip, she kept her silence, knowing disagreeing wasn't going to help.

No, it would make things so much worse.

"You're embarrassing, do you know that?"

She'd heard that before.

Yet that didn't mean his words didn't hurt.

"And your rhythm. Damn, could you do worse? When the hell are you going to learn to play that fucking guitar?"

"You don't have to be crude and I'm trying."

"Yeah, what you're trying to make me look like a fool."

He moved toward her and she backed up, stopping abruptly as her back slammed against the wall.

"Well," he reached to grab her arm, and she sidestepped as she noted his pupils were dilated.

Oh, God, he'd been doing coke again.

She was sure of it.

Her heart began to pound and it was becoming hard to breathe.

"Please, Joel, I'm tired. I'll practice the rift in the morning. I promise. Thirty times. I'll do the rift thirty times."

"Promises, promises. That's all I get from you. Well I'm not tired. And if I played guitar, I could do it a hundred times better than your sorry ass. How can you be so bad?"

"I'm trying and I'm tired. Worn out."

"Get over it. I'm not tired."

"Of course, you're not tired. You're high on cocaine and no doubt, rushing. You promised, Joel. You promised to leave it alone. You know you can't handle it."

"I'm not doing coke."

Instantly, his mood turned dark and like a snake his hand lashed out and curled tightly around her arm and jerked her to him.

"You are."

She pushed against him struggling.

"Let me go, Joel. Please, just let me go."

"You want me to let you go. Not likely."

His grip tightened, and she knew she'd have new bruises tomorrow.

"Of course, not, I'm your meal ticket. Now get your hands off me or I'll call Gerald."

"I locked the door. Ball's in your court."

His smile increased her heartbeat as fear coursed through her, but she stood her ground and he changed tactics as he pressed his body into hers.

Clearly, he'd decided that he could seduce her.

Oh course, the feeling he wanted sex came with the coke, but the reality was even if he could get it up, he would either cum in seconds, or not be able to cum at all.

And truthfully, the last thing she wanted was him to touch her.

Yet, that didn't stop him from pinning her against the wall and trying to kiss her.

Turning her head, she kept him from finding her lips, repulsed by his touch as she push against him, trying to shove him away.

Oh, how far they'd fallen since she used to love him.

But Gerald knew, understood, as he knocked and called her name, "Ms. Gem? You ready? The bus is loaded. Ms. Gem. We need to get a move on. We need to be in Jacksonville by morning."

"Yes, Gerald. I'll be right there. Let me go, Joel. It will cost us if Gerald has to break down the door."

"We can afford it. I'm in negotiations right now for your WORLD TOUR."

His voice held excitement but she wanted to groan.

"No, I need a break. I'm tired. No more for a while."

"Want to do a line? It would wake you up. Give you energy. Come on baby. I'll make you feel better."

She pushed him away from her.

"I told you you're doing coke."

He shrugged and looked away, refusing to admit to it.

"Okay, how did the meeting with the IRS go?"

"Don't worry about that I've got it handled."

"How MUCH?" She hissed the words.

"This is under control."

"HOW MUCH!"

"A lot. Pushing a million."

The sum made her want to drop to the floor into a helpless ball and cry.

Taking a ragged breath, she ask, "How could I owe that much? I've been paying in. I pay an accountant so this doesn't happen. How can this be happening?"

"Well shit happens. You're a star so this shit happens. The IRS has a hard on for you."

"No, you happened. What the hell have you been doing with the money? I'm selling out arenas, stadiums, have records that have went platinum. I can't owe that much. What ARE YOU DOING WITH THE MONEY?"

"What needs to be done. Get over it. YOU OWE THE IRS. I'll fix this."

"Ms. Gem?" Gerald knocked sharply on the door.

His voice insistent.

"Coming, Gerald."

Moving, she managed to unlock the door before Joel could react.

The huge man moved into the room as soon as she unlocked the door.

"Ready, Ms. Gem?"

Gerald placed himself between her and Joel and she turned on her heel as she said, "Yeah, I'm more than ready."

I'll walk you to the bus."

####GF#####


	2. Chapter 2

#####GF#####

Heading out of the dressing room, Gerald walked her through the last of her fans, the VIPs who paid extra to meet and greet. The one's that paid to linger around back stage to the very last moment.

Forcing herself, she chatted with them.

She signed more autographs and smiled for more selfies, but she was crashing.

And Gerald seemed to know it as he finally, ended the session with the words, "It's time, Ms. Gem. Sorry that's all folks. Ms. Gem has to be in Jacksonville tomorrow. Thank you for coming."

Breaking away, she made a heart with her two hands, and then blew air kisses at them.

Hurrying, Gerald rushed her across the parking lot, and she'd almost made the tour bus when a small red sports car roared through the parking lot and slid to a screeching halt beside her.

Gerald jerked her bodily behind him.

Smoothly the passenger's side tinted glass rolled down, and Joel growled the words, "Get in, baby. I'll give you a ride in my new ride."

The engine roared and she waited to say, "Seriously, Joel, you've bought another new car? Now of all times?"

"In, baby. Don't make me put you in the car in front of all these people. Wouldn't make good press or maybe it would. Drama sells you know?"

She felt Gerald stiffen beside her.

"Ms. Gem? Do you want to get on the bus?"

Yes, she did.

With all her heart, but her eyes took in the large number of people at the fence watching.

Her mind recorded the number of flashes as people's smart phones were going off around her, and she knew this moment was being recorded, and would soon be on Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram and probably some other social media sights.

The Paparazzi, independent photographers, who made their made their living following people like her around were also surely standing there too. Men and women who hoped to photograph some dirt on her, something that would sell, were no doubt snapping pictures too.

People with expensive cameras that could get close up and personal.

She schooled her face and smiled up at Gerald, since the last thing she wanted was to be on the cover of the gossip rags, reporting that Joel and she were having problems.

Again.

Even if it was true that her marriage seemed over and it had been for a long time.

Taking a deep breath, smiling brightly for the cameras, she nodded at Gerald and said, "It will be fine, Gerald. I'll see you in Jacksonville. Thank you for all that you do."

He growled the words, "You don't have to get in that car, Ms. Gem. I can deal with him if you want to get on to the bus."

"GEM! IN NOW!"

Gerald's unrest shimmered off his large frame. She laid her hand on his arm and said softly, "No, go on, the bus is waiting. It will be fine. I'll see you in a few hours."

Frowning, he nodded his head before he opened the car door for her, just like she was a lady, and she smiled at him and lifted her chin.

Turning to the crowd one final time, she waved big and then climbed into the small car, slamming the door shut as she sealed her fate.

#####GF#####

"Come on baby, loosen up. Enjoy the ride."

She slipped her shoes off and kept her silence, watching the city scape pass by. It seemed people never slept since even if it was after midnight, cars and people still moved.

Joel shifted gears, and they picked up speed and soon they were running eighty down the interstate headed toward Jacksonville, Florida.

"So let's talk, darling. I know you're tired but if you toured the UK, China, and France the next three months then you could pay the IRS off and make a little pocket change besides. Oh, and Germany is talking some major money if we squeeze them in. No big deal just four or five venues."

"No big deal?" Her head was starting to pound. "Look, Joel, WE are not the one playing all those venues. The band and I am. And the more I make the more I owe the IRS. Let's just sell a couple houses. It's not like I ever live in them anyway, since I'm always on the road. And how many cars do you own or rather owe for now?"

"We're not selling shit and you're going on world tour."

"I'm not."

"You're doing it. I've already agreed."

He accelerated, and they were pushing ninety.

"I mean it. I'm not." Her voice was rising. "I'm doing Jacksonville, and then I'm done and if you try to make me, we're done."

Not prepared, he was like a snake, striking in a flash, as his hand grabbed her head and bashed her face repeatedly into the glass window with the words, "You'll fucking do what you're told, when your told, and you're not going not going to do a damn thing about it. You try to leave me and all of pictures I took of you naked will go viral, and I'll do your sister."

Tears streaming, head pounding, she fought him. "You wouldn't dare touch my sister!"

"I'll get her so high that she'll be begging for it. Try me bitch."

And he slammed her head one more time into the window and she screamed, "DONE! We are so done. I'm over you!"

She fought him, pushing against his strength as he slammed her into the window again.

"We're done when I say when I say we are. You would be nothing but a barefoot hillbilly without me, still singing at the county fairs. You'll do what you're told."

"I'll do what I want for once. And as soon as I get out of this car, I'm pressing charges."

"I'll kill you bitch. . . Shit, deer."

Jerking her head up she saw the deer standing on the highway, cars were honking, brakes were squealing, and they were headed straight for a large buck, who stood frozen in the headlights.

They were flying. 

Joel over steered and then the car slide out of control. He braked hard and the engine stalled as the car slid sideways.

Screaming, she realized they were in a tail spin then the car lunged, and bounced off the guard rail, and they flipped, turning upside down, crashing end over end.

The world a blur of motion.

She didn't have a clue what happened to the deer but realized they had just barely missed another car that was also crashing.

The entire world exploded into the sound of breaking glass and screaming tires.

With extreme force, punching her solidly in the face, her air bag exploded, and she almost lost consciousness but recovered to fight the bag, pushing against the white bag as the car kept rolling, over and over.

The motion was making her sick to her stomach and she'd begun to think it wasn't ever going to stop.

Glass shattered, metal screaming, she watch sparks light the air, as the car skidded then slammed into something hard and solid.

Both of them screaming, she watched helplessly, as the car flipped in what now seemed slow motion.

One instant, the car was in the air and then gravity won and with her screaming, the car crashed to a bone jarring stop with a loud splash.

And she was hanging upside down and whimpering.

"Gem, shit. Gem! Fuck! Have to get out of the car."

She head him unbuckle his seat belt.

"Damn, the car's sinking. We must be in the fucking Suwanee River."

Water, her frozen brain was telling her as cold and wet registered.

"My hair is getting wet. I hate getting my face wet. Joel?"

Yes, she was hanging upside down in a wrecked car, her hair getting wet, while the gurgling sound of water running, rushing, forced her to open her painful eyes.

"Joel? Help."

But Joel was gone.

The driver's seat empty. 

She whimpered realizing the car was moving again, caught in the river's swift current.

And the thought that he'd left her to die, swept her mind.

"Jerk to the very end," she said out loud, wincing as she figured out her lips were busted, probably from the damn air bag crashing into her face at what felt like the speed of light.

In addition, her entire body ached and just shutting her eyes and dying crossed her mind, then she breathed cold water and choked.

Luckily at that instant, true survival instinct kicked in.

Move or drown she told herself.

She moved.

Bubbles, she heard bubbles and processed that the car was losing air and sinking, as she forced her hand to reach for the seat belt release.

Thumb pressing the button, she dropped with force onto the car's roof, into icy cold water.

Blinded for an instant, she came up coughing, spitting and screaming as the car shifted and sunk deeper.

The water poured in now and she tread water. She was a weak swimmer but still she dog paddled, lungs straining, until her head broke the surface.

Again, the car jolted, groaned, and then she heard a thud and hoped she'd hit river bottom as the car stopped moving.

Metal screeched and she felt the current rocking the car as she swam thankful up into the air pocket in the floorboard, a tiny air pocket that was quickly dissipating.

The car lurched and she knew if she didn't get out of the car soon she was going to die.

Think.

Her heart pounded.

Panting, she continued to tread dark water, panicking, her breath coming hard, as the lit dash abruptly went out and plunged her in inky darkness.

Intense pressure froze her chest.

Time had run out.

The air almost gone now and the water swept through the car.

Joel had gotten out that meant she could too. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself.

Moving over to the driver's side, she used her hands to fight the current and pull herself to the driver's seat.

Feeling in the darkness, she realized the window glass was gone from his door.

The air was almost gone from the floor board now, forcing her to tip her head back to breath.

The car shifted again and she inhaled deeply, gave a small prayer and hating to get her face wet, forced herself to swim underwater.

Quickly she was running out of air as she tried to find the surface. The current was sweeping her, tumbling her, and she swam for all she was worth.

Kicking hard, fighting not to breath, she managed to break the water surface, dragging in wonderful fresh air. She was poor swimmer, but she knew how to float, how to tread water, and could hear him screaming her name.

Treading water, she saw the people were arriving on the bank.

Cars were everywhere. Even in the darkness, she could see that this had been a multi-car pile up. Cars were at odd angles on both sides of the bridge.

Traffic was already backed up as far as she could see.

People had stopped on the sides of the highway and already flashlights, probably phones were looking for her in the water.

Joel and other people were now calling her name.

In the far distance, she could see tiny blue lights coming. She knew she would be able to hear the sirens soon.

She should swim into the bank.

Cry out for help.

Yet, she hesitated.

Biting her bottom lip, she decided that enough was enough.

And too much was past too much.

She hated her life.

Maybe it was the head injury?

Maybe it was shock?

Maybe it was the death of her marriage of ten years?

Maybe it was the fact that her drugged up husband had just left her upside down in a car to drown?

Or maybe it was because she had been stupid and gotten in the car with in him in the first place.

She'd known he was high.

Or maybe she was just tired, but instead of swimming toward the bank, she turned over and swam the other way, swam with the current away from Joel, away from the fans, away from the Paparazzi and away from her crashing and burning life.

She swam away knowing that the helicopters with their spotlights were coming, that the news crews with their cameras were coming, that people would search for her.

Kicking harder, the sounds getting further away, dimmer now, she swam knowing she'd be on the front page of every newspaper tomorrow and people would be tweeting about her death.

But, as she still swam away.

Gem Fire was dead.

And she intended to keep her that way.

And even battered and bruised, cold and wet, she felt better than she had in years.

#####GF#####

Thanks for the read. And hope you hear from you. 


	3. Chapter 3

#####GF#####

Staying in the cold water for a very long time, she noted that the dawn was breaking, and she realized that the river's water was dark and stunk. The sun came up and she swam for a while, and then she floated getting further and further away from the crash site, further away from the people, and further away from her husband.

The river's banks were lined with trees full of Spanish moss. The cypress trees were everywhere, along their knees and the every time she heard a splash, she wondered about gaters.

Finally, freezing, unable to take any more, her entire body shaking, feeling waterlogged, she crawled out of the water, waded very icky mud to crawl up onto the bank and just lay there for a while.

Shivering, she didn't even have a clue which side of the river she'd just crawled out of. Trees and vegetation lined the shores. Birds sang their tunes, which soothed her until an insect buzzed her ear and bit her and she though bugs, yuck, as her skin crawled.

Sitting up quickly, she was thinking she'd made a huge mistake. Extreme nature wasn't her favorite thing, and she hadn't seen or heard anything but the birds and the wind in hours. It wasn't that she was a city girl but right at the moment she wished for the sound of an engine.

Okay, right at this minute she's take a plane or a boat motor.

Shutting her eyes, she hugged her knees and listened to twitters and calls. The wind rustled the tree's leaves, and she knew she was miles from anywhere.

"Crap," she said out loud, "If this isn't the middle of nowhere, I can darn sure see it from here."

Her stomach growled, and she wondered the last time she'd eaten.

A sandwich before the show yesterday? Maybe.

Yet, her stomach complained again that it had been too long.

Okay, maybe she did want to be rescued.

She could get a restraining order and an awesome lawyer, heck a law firm with bunches of lawyers, who would hand her Joel's head on a platter.

Crash her into the damn river and leave her to drown.

She'd show him.

And a small whisper said, "And won't the tabloids love that."

She could see the headlines. "Gem's Husband leaves her HIGH and not Dry."

Or "Gem's Marriage Hits Rock River Bottom."

A small grin crossed her lips as she shivered and hugged her legs tighter.

The sun was up now and it felt good on her shoulder blades. But she was really tired, exhausted, however, she realized that she needed to get out of the sun, since she kind of neglected to bring her sun screen, and the last thing she needed on top of everything else was sun burn.

Moving inland just a bit, into the shadows, she found a tree with a bed of leaves and after sweeping the leaves around and checking for bugs and only finding a few ants and beetles, she curled up in a ball and passed out.

Hours later, she opened her eyes and hoped to see some nice hotel room, complete with clean crisp white sheets with an awesome thread count and room service.

She'd been dreaming that Joel had crashed the car, and she'd spent the night in the river.

Unfortunately, reality was still here.

The birds still twittered, the bugs still buzzed and she swore something out there in critterville sounded like a monkey as the wind moved across her skin and rustled the leaves around her.

Did they have monkeys in Florida?

She heard a splash and remembered that they had gaters and shivered.

And her stomach growled, though at least her clothes had somewhat dried as she slept.

Okay, she knew that she had to be miles downstream from where they'd wrecked. And she knew she had to get up and get moving because she couldn't stay here.

With no clean water and nothing to eat, she had to get moving.

Dehydration would be setting in.

She'd watched "Naked and Afraid," enough to know that she had to find fresh water and soon. Even it if meant getting back into the river and going further downstream.

First, she decided she was going to walk her way out of this.

It didn't take long for her feet to start bleeding, and she was just about to face getting back into the water when the sound of paddles hitting the water reached her ears and an canoe with an elderly couple, the woman wearing a floppy purple hat, came cruising down the river.

She wanted to cry, but instead, she waved her hands and yelled, "Help. Here I'm here. HELP!"

And she jumped up and down, her heart soaring, as the woman in the purple hat waved, and the man turned the canoe turned her way.

Heart pounding, she realized she wanted rescued, but she didn't want found.

So when the couple's canoe bumped again the bank, and the older gentleman, with a Raider's ball cap grinned at her with perfectly white teeth, clearly false, she smiled as he ask, "You lost?"

It was easy to simply agree with a sharp nod of her head.

The elderly woman frowned at her, then looked shocked as she ask, "You okay? Your face?"

Remembering the air bag, she realized her face was probably bruised. Shrugging, she wrapped her arms around herself and said, "I fell. I . . . ."

Looking the ground, she added, "Thank you for stopping. I need a ride out of here."

Jeez, she was going to cry.

She tried to pull it together.

"How'd you get here?

She shrugged, not wanting to expose herself.

"I . . ."

She bit her lip and looked at her feet.

The elderly man asked gruffly, "Did he leave you out here by yourself?"

Again she nodded, since it did kind of happen that way.

"It's going to be okay, honey." The older woman said gently.

"Come on and climb in and we'll take you back to the park."

"Yeah."

She nodded wishing she could think of something better to say than "Yeah," but her brain didn't want to engage.

Alright that was almost too easy.

In a matter of minutes, she was riding down river in the couple's canoe. And luckily, the woman made all the chit chat.

"We're from upper New York State. Come here every year during the winter. Name's Nancy Wallace. And that's my boyfriend James. Your name?"

She struggled to come up with a name at the drop of a hat and finally resorted to her real name, rather her old nickname.

"BJ."

"BJ?"

"Yeah."

"Do you live around here?"

"No, just passing through."

"Us, too. We have a small camper. You?"

"Motel."

"What town?"

Okay, the woman had stumped her on that one.

"Hmmm. I don't remember. Give me a second."

Her mind worked trying to remember a name of a hotel that might exist somewhere nearby. Finally, hoping she said, "Comfort Inn."

"Okay, you must be staying in Live Oaks."

"Yeah." That sounded good to her.

They paddled hard as they approached what looked like a boat landing.

A wooden platform and walkway came into view, and a sloped surface that looked like a place to carry a canoe out of and then the canoe was scraping the concrete. And Nancy was climbing out of the canoe and pulling the canoe up further out of the water.

Steadying the canoe, she said, "Climb out."

Following the woman's order, she did as she was told.

Unsure, she stood there, as James made his way up the canoe and climbed out on dry land, then Nancy said, "BJ, we'll load the canoe and then drop you off at the motel. Sound good to you?"

She swallowed hard, fighting back tears, "Yeah, thanks. That would be wonderful."

Yet, she knew she didn't have a room, knew she had no money but at least she was out of the river.

With motions that spoke of practice, Nancy and James loaded the light weight canoe onto the SUV.

And she had to admit that she was impressed how well the older couple worked together.

A short time later, the couple dropped her at the Comfort Inn, and she walked in like she own the place. Walking past the front desk, she walked to the bathroom then unable to help herself, she allowed herself to drink out of the faucet.

Greedily, she drank the water.

The hotel was having happy hour and there was free chips and salsa and wine.

Ravenously, she helped herself, even if the true guests looked at her funny.

She didn't care as she stuffed her mouth.

The woman hosting the event gave her dirty looks but again she didn't care.

And yes, she also accepted a free glass of wine before she walked out of the hotel.

Now, she was homeless and on the street. And she was crashing again. Unable to help herself, she managed to walk down the street and sat down on the sidewalk.

She just had to rest for a few minutes. Past tired, she fell asleep on the sidewalk.

#####GF#####

I look forward to any review. As always thanks for the read. And Nano November moves on.


	4. Chapter 4

#####GF#####

Head spilling, she sat there on the sidewalk and wondered how she could have fallen this far in just twenty four hours.

In only twenty four hours, she'd fallen so far.

It was unreal that this could happen to her.

And she realized that the world had gone blurry on the right side, which meant she'd somehow lost one of her contacts.

Yeah, she was blind. She was supposed to wear glasses.

Heck, she already was in trifocals.

One lens for seeing, one lens for computer and one for reading. She'd walked into things when she was young. Things like door knobs and tables.

She'd not been able to judge her distance and had numerous black eyes when she was young.

And now, she wasn't sure when it happened but her right long wear contact was gone.

Damn and she'd another three days left on that one.

But the contact being missing meant that she was kind of blind.

Could bad just turn to worse?

How could she go from being worth multi-millions, even if she did owe the IRS at least a million of that, to a homeless penniless vagabond in just one damn day?

And an almost blind vagabond at that, since now she had to squint to see.

It was a good thing she wasn't expected to drive.

But she wanted to cry as people streamed past her, refusing to look at her.

She wanted to scream at them for ignoring her.

Just how did she become a non-person overnight, a person, who when she collapsed on the sidewalk no one calls the cops or for goodness sake an ambulance for her.

No, instead people were walking around her, giving her a wide berth.

People were pretending they didn't see her lying on the damn sidewalk in the middle of the afternoon.

What was this world coming too?

Why would people just ignore her.

Couldn't people tell that she was sick?

She knew her face was a mess.

She knew her clothes were a mess.

She knew she smelled like that damn Suwanee river and her hair was a total complete mess.

She knew was a complete and total mess.

Yet, none of these people cared?

No they were too busy looking at their smart phones.

Yes, that was where their compassion for other people had gone.

How could those people just walk around her, like she was so much garbage on the street? How could they just keep their eyes glued to their smart phones, while she lay here on the sidewalk?

Something prickly hit her side and her brain registered a very angry faced man shouting at her, hitting her with his broom.

"Soup kitchens that way." He pointed down the street. "Get away from my store. You're hurting my business."

He hit her again with his broom, muttering, "Damn homeless people."

Managing to rise, using the wall behind her to stand, she drug herself down the street, forced herself to keep putting one foot in front of the other, dragging her dirty, beat-up feet down the sidewalk.

She ached to give in, wanted to concede, and wanted to scream at the passing people to call the cops, to call 911.

But if she did that, Joel would find her, the world would find her, and the press would find her.

And she hadn't lived though all this living hell for the last day to go back and be right back in the place she started.

No, she would die first and as a wave of weakness assaulted her, she wondered if that might just happen before she found this soup mission.

Finally, a metal building in the more rundown part of town came into view sporting a large faded sign that said, "Mission. All are Welcome!"

Leaning against the wall, she looked at her hands and realized that she still wore his rings.

Her engagement ring itself was worth a chunk, though the really expensive one was in the vault since it was valued at almost a million, but this one she had on was only worth about one hundred and twenty five grand.

And her brain thought "only?" 

What a joke.

The wedding band she wore was engraved with their intertwined letters, so that would no doubt hurt the value of the ring.

Then she wondered how much she would get if she pawned them both?

But could he could find her if she pawned the rings?

She bit her bottom lip and knew she couldn't take the chance, so she pulled both rings off her finger and stuffed them in her jean's pocket.

With trembling hands, she pushed the door open and a small bell tinkled above her head. She stood there for a moment as a tall old man moved toward her and pointed to a line that was serving something in Styrofoam cups.

Gratefully, she entered the line and took a warm cup. Never would she have thought that a cup could be so warm.

Carefully, she sipped the best tasting, worst tasting, nastiest, weakest, but most heavenly coffee that she'd ever tasted in her life.

It was that bad but somehow that good all wrapped into one.

Yes, for a minute, she just stood them for an instant and savored that lousy cup coffee.

Then the guy behind her ask, "Are you going to move?"

"Move?

"Yeah, move. You're holding up the line."

She looked, though the view was a little fuzzy, but she could see that the people in front of her were gone and a line was forming behind her. It seemed her brain was really working right now.

"Oh, sorry."

And, she moved and when a woman pointed at a tray, she picked it up.

A smiling young man filled a Styrofoam bowl with what looked like homemade vegetable soup. A sandwich followed along with several packages of crackers. Trembling, she stopped at the first table and plopped down.

Her body was failing her again.

Hands shaking, she managed to pick up the spoon and ate a mouthful of the most wonderful soup she had ever tasted. Unable to stop, she began to wolf down the homemade vegetable soup.

"Slow down," an old woman said softly, her face wrinkled but her eyes still bright. The old woman was dragging a leg and leaned on a wheeled walker, one of those that had a seat, as she moved through the small group of people handing out apples.

Now she stood stopped in front of her and was frowning down at her.

"You're going to make yourself sick." The woman had silver hair and looked like she had to be someone's grandma.

Not that she knew anything about grandmother's or mother's since she'd never had one, since her mother had died having her and the grandmother's had departed life early too. Okay, she'd had a step mother, Reese, who'd had given her a little sister but even though the woman had tried her father's wife had never understood her.

Yet, she had a soft spot for the woman since at least she'd tried. 

No, Cinderella she hadn't been.

Reese and her father had raised her in middle class style. She had nice clothes, a used car when she turned sixteen and a normal upbringing.  They hadn't even discouraged her from wanting to go into the music business and her dad had been proud of her up to the day he'd had his major heart attack and died suddenly when she was twenty five. 

Seven years had passed and she still missed him.

"Thank you." She said quietly, as she accepted an apple from the woman and tried to slow down and take small bites. But the shakes were setting in now and she put her hands in her armpits and tried to stop the shakes.

Yet, it seemed that the very cold had settled in her bones.

"Are you in the DT's? When'd you have your last drink?" The woman asked quietly.

"Look, I'm just cold and damp and not feeling too well right now. I don't drink."

It was true, drinking just got her beat up more, for it loosed her tongue, and made her stupid enough to truly talk back.

If she'd learned anything in the last few years, it was that talking back was painful, but she was foolish sometimes and did it any.

"And I'm married to the president, and live in the White House. Honey, I've heard them all. You don't have to lie to me."

"Not lying." She shivered again. "My clothes are damp, and I don't have any shoes. Normal response is being cold."

The woman looked down and noted her dirty socks then reached to touch her shoulder, and she flinched away.

"Easy, I'm not going to hurt you child."

"Sorry." Her faced reddened.

"No big deal. Jill, get me a blanket. Got a cold one here." The older woman yelled and another woman appeared in a few minutes with a raggedy brown blanket that at one time she wouldn't have gotten near her body, but times had changed and as the old woman settled it over her shoulders, its instant warmth felt heavenly.

"There that's better?"

"Yes, thank you. That's very kind of you."

"You're welcome, honey." The women hobbled around and sat on her rolling walker's seat before she said, "Name's Elsie. Yours?"

Taking a bit of her apple, she ducked her head.

She started to say, Betty Joe or BJ but stopped the words. Someone might remember that was her name before she became famous. Her eyes swept the room and landed on a poster that proclaimed "You always have hope if you believe in the Lord."

"Hope," she said quietly.

"What a fine name. Well, Hope, do you have a place to sleep tonight? It's supposed to get cold, dipping into the 40's tonight. And I'm thinking the shelter's full. But I can call the battered women's shelter if you want. They'll put you up. At least for a little while. And they can help you start over."

Wincing, red faced, she shook her head that was starting to ache, knowing she was sitting there with a ring in her pocket worth over a hundred thousand. No, she couldn't go there.

She looked at a spot on the wall above the woman's head, as she said, "No, I don't need a place like that. I couldn't go there."

"Sure you could. My daughter had to do it once, when her kids were younger."

"She did?"

The old woman's eyes found hers and she nodded. "If she'd have stayed with her husband, I think he'd have finally killed her, or my oldest grandson would have killed him. Not a good thing, either, way. And the cops just can't do much. She wouldn't have him arrested or if she did, she'd take him back. Believe it or not, the woman's shelter saved their life."

"Was he hitting her?"

"Girl, he wasn't hitting her, he was kicking her ass."

She grinned at the old woman and she went on to say, "But the shelter gave them all a new start. Helped her get her own place and find a job. She had to make a decision, her pride or her life and those of her children. And she had to finally stop hoping it was going to get better on its own and ask for help."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"You can, Hope. And more than that, you deserve a warm place to sleep, a safe place to sleep and a good life. What are you going to do, sleep in the park and end up in jail?"

Crap, she couldn't do that either and she swallowed hard.

Someone would figure out who she was if she got arrested, and she was sure orange wasn't her color. Her head pounding and her heart racing, her stomach turned over.

She was going to be sick, throw up and she held her stomach, with the words, "Do you have a restroom?"

"Over there."

Walking into the small room, still hugging the worn blanket, she locked the door and leaned against the wall.

"Oh, my God." The words slipped out.

The woman that stared her back from the mirror was blurry but she could still see she was filthy, bruised and unrecognizable.

No wonder people had left her lying on the sidewalk.

Stringy hair, one eye purple, going black, her cheek discolored, almost purple, even she didn't know the woman standing there in the mirror.

Everything in her stomach churned, the soup, the coffee, the wine and the chips and dip, and she was clutching the toilet and everything was coming up, until there was nothing left.

Weak now, with hands that shook, she carefully, with rough brown paper towels, washed her painful face.

Grimacing, she straightened the discolored blouse, carefully straightening her stained collar just so. With trembling hands, she washed and washed her hands, then she washed her hands again, like if she washed them enough she could truly be clean again, before she turned and read the sign on the door.

"No one deserves to be beat up. Love should not hurt you. Let us help. We can keep you safe from abuse. Help you! Too many people die every year at the hands of a loved one. Break the cycle of ABUSE! Call us. We have a SAFE HOUSE."

The sign had tear away pieces at the bottom. Most of the tiny slips with numbers were gone, and only three remained.

Only three left, she thought. Almost the entire bottom of the page was gone with only three tabs left.

They were going to need a new sign soon. And she wondered how often they had to replace the sign. The thought too often crossed her mind.

Clearly, other women's husbands and boyfriends hurt them too.

The thought occupied her mind as she turned it over and over in her brain.

Rich, poor, middle class, it didn't matter but women and maybe men too were sometimes helpless at the hands of their partners.

She thought about her sister and her step mother, who both would mourn her, and her heart ached.

Thoughts about all the money she was worth, crossed her mind, and she thought of that stupid expensive, ring that wasn't doing her a bit of good, in her pocket.

Shutting her eyes, she thought about her six houses, most of which she hadn't lived any time in. No, instead the houses sat empty and she paid staff to keep them up, just in case by some off chance she happened to have time to visit.

Not that was likely to happen, since she was on the road, on tour or working in the studio and everyday of her life seemed scheduled.

Maybe because it was, he brain whispered.

All she did was work, and she was tired of working.

Where was the fun in life?

She was on the top of her career and the last thing she was having was fun.

Just how many cars could they owe, or owe for, that she'd never gotten or had the time to drive?

What good were all those things when she never got to enjoy them?

Images of all her beautiful guitars crossed her mind.

She liked to buy twelve string Ovations, especially Glen Campbell editions, and bought them from eBay and other vendors.

And she honestly didn't know how many twelve strings she owned.

But she loved them all and it was a shame she didn't get to play more of them.

Heavens, she would truly miss her guitars.

She snickered as she realized she'd miss her guitars more than her husband. Then the smile disappeared as lastly, she thought about, her lovely rose garden that someone else maintained and appreciated, since she was never home to enjoy it.

Her hand trembled as she reached out and tore off the small slip of paper with a phone number and the thought that she could do this.

She'd made her decision when she swam away from the wreck, now she just had to do what had to be done.

Straightening her shoulders, she said, "I'm never going back to that life. I don't have time for pride. I want a new life. I'm one of them, one of those women with no choice, one who has to escape, and if I don't escape, I'm going to die one night at the hands of the man who married my and claimed he loved me." 

Intensely, she looked at herself in the mirror before she said, "We dressed up and he promised me better and he showed the worse. He's betrayed me."

Looking at her reflection she added, "Gem Fire's dead. Betty Joe Taylor and BJ Taylor died with her. All of them died in that wreck, They drown in the Suwanee River after high Joel wrecked that car. I am someone else."

"I'm Hope . . ." Looking down she glanced at the faucet and read the word Stanley.

Turning she unlocked door and when she stepped out, her name was Hope Stanley, and she found the old woman and handed her a slip of paper.

"Good choice," the old woman said. "I'll call them. Someone will come and pick you up. Now, let's get you another bowl of soup."

"Thank you," and she sat down to wait.

But she didn't eat as she sat and rocked, waiting for someone to come that take her to the shelter, telling herself, "You can do this."

Yes, still she rocked.

#####JF#####

Reviews? I love to hear from my readers. And as always thanks for the read.


	5. Chapter 5

#####GF#####

"Hope?"

An older woman in skinny jeans and a white t-shirt that had a United States flag on it, reached out and she jerked back as the woman said again, "Hope?"

"Huh? Oh, sorry."

She'd already forgotten that was her name. Maybe becoming someone else wasn't as easy as she thought.

"Hi, I’m Frances, and I've come to get you. You ready?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"You have any bags? Purse maybe?"

"No, just me. I'm traveling light for once."

A smile flickered as she remembered how her roadies had groaned over how much luggage and extra equipment she liked to travel with. They would be shocked that she now had nothing.

But those days were gone, she told herself.

"Okay, if you’re ready, follow me."

The woman led her to a white minivan, and she unlocked the doors with the words, "Climb in."

As soon as she got the seatbelt on, Frances started the engine and then turned to her and said, "I want you to know that I'm not asking this to judge you. None of the people at the shelter will judge you. And anything you tell me is confidential. But since you are about to enter a group home, a home that has children living in it, I need to know if someone's searching for you right now?"

She looked out the window, thinking that the entire world was currently searching for her.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Do you want them to find you?"

Biting her lip for an instant, she said, "No."

"Next question. Is that person capable of violence?"

She looked at her nasty socks and nodded her head as her face flamed.

"Male or female?"

Clearing her throat, she managed the one word. "Male."

“Do you want to tell them his name?”

“NO!”

"Okay, then we'll go the long way home to make sure no one's following us."

And she put the van into gear and pulled away from the curb.

"You from here?"

"No, was just passing through."

"How long since you've seen the person that you're worried about?"

Looking out the window again and watching the businesses past, watching fast food row fly past, she said, "Not long enough."

"I understand that answer but how many hours since you saw him?"

"What time is it? And what day?"

"Thursday about 6:30 p.m."

Only Thursday?

It seemed longer.

"Close to eighteen hours."

"Good then there's a chance he's not still around. Where did you see him last?"

Okay, she needed a cover story if this was going to work. Think, she told herself. Again, she bit her lip before she said, "On the highway. He dumped me out."

Somewhat the truth, but not quite, but close enough she could remember it.

"Are you hurt anywhere but your face? Do you need to go to the ER? Anything broken?"

"NO ER! I'll be fine. I’m not going to the ER!"

"Easy, calm down. We'll just take this with baby steps. We've got a nurse practitioner who can look you over and if she clears you then it will be all good. Okay?"

"Okay." But it wasn’t, she was panicking.

Her breath was becoming ragged and her head aching.

This was a bad idea.

Frances reached and turned on the radio and ask, "What kind of music do you like?"

The announcer was talking about the tragedy, about her death, as her voice came out of the speakers, one of her first hits and she cringed and said, "Could we turn it off. I've got a bad headache."

"Sure. Guess you heard that heard that Gem Fire's car went into the Suwannee River early this morning?”

She didn’t answer and it seemed that she didn’t have to as the woman went on. “That’s just up river from us. Major pileup on the interstate last night. Luckily more people weren’t killed. It's been all over the news and radio all day. Supposed to have been a deer on the highway, and she and her husband wiped out. Rolled his fancy car. She didn't make it from what they're saying."

"Who was driving?" She knew the answer but wondered if Joel would somehow put the wreck on her.

"He was. I saw the YouTube video."

"Video?"

"Yeah, the last video of her getting into that red sports car with him last night. It’s went viral today."

"Oh."

"I'm going really miss her music. She had a lot of talent. Sent a good message for our youth and kept her clothes on doing it."

Her chest grew heavy, knowing the Joel would probably sell those pictures of her naked, passed out and naked when she was younger. And he’d get a good price out of them. Oh, he’d probably wait until the media storm settled but yes, he’d sell them to the highest bidder.

Yet, another reason she no longer drank.

“Unlike some other pop stars she was a lady and always good to her fans. I was hoping to see her the next time she toured. Now I’ll never get the chance.”

Heaven help her, she was riding to a women's shelter with a fan. And one that luckily didn't have a clue she was sitting in a minivan with her.

Nice to know she looked so bad even a fan didn't recognize her.

Talk about ironic.

It was all she could do not to dissolve in laughter right here and now, which proved she had to be losing her mind.

"It doesn't look like we have a tail. We can go to the house. I want you to understand that you can't tell anyone where the house is since it's a safe house."

"Frankly, your secret's pretty safe since I don't have a clue where I am."

“Well even if you figure it out. You can’t tell where the house is. Okay?”

“Sure.” She grinned as she pulled up to a normal looking large house in a middle class looking neighborhood where all the houses looked pretty much the same.

Reaching into the console, Frances pulled out a clicker and pushed the button, and as she pulled up in a driveway, the garage door slowly opened and she pulled in and clicked the button and closed the door behind them.

"Welcome to what we call the Ritz. A joke of course."

"Okay." She popped her seat belt and opened the door and followed Frances though the door and into a large kitchen and total pandemonium.

A baby boy, at least he was dressed in blue, screamed in a high chair as a harried looking young woman tried to poke something orange in the child's mouth, who immediately spit it back at her, while another toddler dressed in purple cried and clung to the young woman's leg.

The young women looked close to tears herself.

The sound of the TV blaring one of her top songs, filled the air as a door swung open and a large women said meanly, "Damn, Shelly, can't you get them to hush. They’re making me crazy."

"Fuck off, Jessie, I'm doing the best I can here." The young girl couldn't be over twenty one and she looked about to bust in tears.

"No cursing both of you. Kids you know, so no F bombs or D bombs," said Frances.

Jessie leaned against the kitchen table. “It’s not like they haven’t heard it before.”

“Not the point.” Frances snapped. “House rule. No cursing.”

Another larger woman came in behind Jessie, and Frances said, "Hope, met Shelly, Jessie, and Ginger."

"Come on dearie," said the larger older woman. "If I've ever seen someone who needs a shower it's you."

And Ginger hustled her down a hall into a bathroom and left her with towels, shampoo and other toiletries, a fluffy robe, a long faded Key West t-shirt, along with warm socks and a pair of panties that almost fit and the words, "Sorry but your hot water won't last long so don't linger. We need a new hot water heater but money's tight. Here's a bag for your dirty clothes. And a bag for your toiletries. Keep up with them since shampoo is another thing that is tight here."

She handed her two plastic grocery bags, with the words of a local grocery store printed on it before she frowned and added, "Though I don't know if your clothes will ever come clean, but I'll soak them and see. But don't have much hope."

“Me either. Guess you could just toss them.”

“Those jeans look expensive.”

“They’re no big deal.”

“Well I’ll let you get to it. Remember don’t dawdle.”

Dawdle, she thought, peeling her revolting ruined clothes off. Shivering, she turned the shower on thinking who said the word dawdle anymore?

Stepping in the old shower, she noted the hard water stains on the tub as she closed the plastic shower curtain. Yet, the hot water felt heavenly.

However, the hot water hurt her face and her body, and she discovered as she washed that she was a massive bruise, just about everywhere.

Guess flipping over end, and then being in the river for hours gave you bruises.

Ginger wasn’t joking about the hot water heater as the water quickly began to cool. No, she didn’t have time to linger as she scrubbed the river from her body and quickly washed her hair.

And she wished she still had money since right now because she'd donate a chunk to this place, just because they'd let her take a hot shower, IRS be damned.

She was still washing as the water got cold so she rinsed off, turned the water off and climbed out. Toweling carefully, painfully off, she dressed then with hands what trembled she removed the necklace from her neck and dug the rings out of her jean pocket and strung them on the necklace and put them back on her neck.

Brushing her hair, she braided it and wished for a hair tie. Using the new toothbrush, she brushed her teeth and looked at her blurry image. Shutting her right eye, she sighed. Okay, not too much like her old self, she would pass.

Then she exited the bathroom, taking the two grocery sacks with her.

Ginger must have been waiting, since she met her at the end of the hall and led her to a small room that held a lot of clothes.

"You should pick you out a least three outfits, and seven would be better if we have anything that fits you."

She pointed to a blue tote and said, "Socks, panties and bras are over here, I hope we have something small enough for you and be sure to find a pair of shoes.

Instantly, her face turned red, realizing the woman knew she'd arrived here with no shoes.

"And don't forget to get something to sleep it. You're going to have a couple roommates. Just pretend it's a slumber party."

The woman laughed at her own joke.

Super red now, she realized that she was going to have to share a room, and it became hard to breath.

Then thoughts of the hundreds of shoes she probably owned filled her head.

Yeah, she'd a thing about buying shoes that she'd never had time to wear, almost as bad a habit as buy Ovations guitars that she didn't play.

Guess something had to live in all those houses she owned.

A lot of those shoes, she'd never worn, except for trying them on in the store.

"Advice, larger shoes are easier on the feet than small shoes."

Ginger handed her a couple of more plastic bags. "Put your stuff in these and I'll see what I can do to find you a coat, or maybe a hoodie. I'll leave you to it then. And, Hope, just wanted to tell you, I'm glad you're here. You made the right decision. Welcome to the Ritz."

Sweat instantly found her palms, and her cheeks reddened and she thought that this was really embarrassing, but she couldn't help it since she needed their help badly right.

Since she was never going back to her old life.

Never, she promised herself.

Gem Fire drowned and had taken Betty Joe or BJ with her.

End of story.

Dropping to her knees, she pulled out a tote.

The clothing was gently used. Holding up a green blouse, she remembered the designer dress she'd worn when she'd won two Grammies was almost the same color and a blue blouse reminded her of the killer dress she'd worn when she'd swept the MTV Awards and won song of the year.

It seemed so long ago now.

A different lifetime.

She remembered the closets full of clothes, all the other things she owned.

Everything she had just given up and needed to get over.

Scarfs, belts, and all the bling that when with them and the rings on the chain lay heavy against her chest.

But those days were gone now and she had to straighten her spine and make a new life.

It was time for a change, and she was making that change.

Thoughtfully, she went through clothes, and she found three pairs of jeans and two sweaters, and four t-shirts and two blouses. The bras and the panties were new but still a too big but they'd work and she lucked out and found one pair of worn tennis shoes that truly fit.

And felt good on her feet.

How far had she fallen?

A hell of a long ways in less than twenty four hours, and she had a feeling she was still free falling.

Ginger stuck her head in and said, "You find anything?"

"Some."

"Good, but the nurse practitioner is here. She wants to check you over. Just bring your stuff with you."

"Okay." And she stood and picked up the bags and followed Ginger.

#####GF#####

She checked out okay with the nurse. Bruised and battered but she was going to survive.

Frances questioned her about her past but she remained quiet.

But they kept after her until she made up a story.

"I came from a couple counties over. Parents died. No one left. I thought I could trust him. And he beat me up and dumped me on the side of the road. Can I stop talking about it now?"

Looking down, Frances stopped asking questions.

But then Sandy, her advocate showed up. Her job was to try to find her a job and housing.

Yet, after she gave her name, made up an address and had retold the same story about getting dumped on the road, Sandy asked her social security number.

Then she clammed up tight.

“Hope, I really have to have that number.” The woman said gently.

“I don’t have one.”

“Alright, then where were you born? We’ll apply for your birth certificate and then apply for you a social. Let’s try again. What’s your birthday?”

“July fourth, 1984.” A lie but Independence Day seemed like a good answer.

“And your father’s name?”

She stood with the words, “Thank you for all that you’ve done but I’m going to have to leave now.”

“Hope, don’t be hastily. “If you will just trust me, I can help you.”

“Thanks but no thanks. I’ll just be going.” She swallowed hard as she wondered where she would sleep tonight.

“Okay, calm down and don’t be hasty. Look believe me, we can protect you. Remember that he doesn’t know where you are, and most people can’t find you with your social security number.”

“He’s not most people,” she said quietly, her heart pounding. “Thanks for the shower and the change of clothes. If someone could kindly take me back to the center of town I would appreciate it.”

The woman frowned then said, “How about I just give you a little time to think about you letting us help you? I understand a lot has happened in the last couple of days.” She shut the folder, “We don’t have to do this today. You settle in. Eat, sleep and rest. Get your strength back. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now is there anything you can tell me?”

“I need glasses. I have one contact in and it is going to have to come out tomorrow. I’m going to be kind of blind after that.”

“I’ll see what I can to get you at least some cheaters. How blind are you?”

“Really blind. I had trifocals. Can I please go now?”

“Sure, but Hope, if you want a new life then you’re going to have to give me something to work with. Could you just think about it?”

She nodded her head but she knew she couldn’t tell them the truth. No one could know that she was still alive, and she intended to keep it that way and somehow, she had to figure out how to become Hope Stanley.

Somehow, she had to make this work.

#####GF#####

Thoughts? As always thanks for the read.


	6. Chapter 6

#####GF#####

So they backed off and left her alone for a while. A week later she walked through the common room and thought, would she ever stop falling?

It had been a week, a very long week.

She'd slept in a room with four other women, one that cried most of the time, one that snored and one like her had nightmares. It seemed like every time she shut her eyes she was back in that car, him slamming her head into the passenger door, the car flipping out of control, steel screaming, sparks flying and then the water threatening to drown her.

None of them were getting much sleep at night. And to top things off, someone had stolen her shampoo and her tooth paste. And now she was worried about her rings. She had to figure out how to hide her rings before they disappeared. Her rings might be helpful in the future. Though exactly how she was going to explain owning a ring that cost over a hundred and twenty grand boggled her mind.

Long and hard, she thought about those rings and how to hide them. She thought about the washer, the drain pan of the refrigerator and the freezer. She thought about in the floor vents, in the shower head and behind the back of pictures. She considered the top of the ceiling fans and wondered if the rings would make them spin off balance, then decided they would. Ideas ran through her head and she thought about places like the bottom of chairs and in the coach cushions.  But none of those places seemed safe. 

Finally, she made a decision and she got a butter knife and grabbed her dental floss and went into the public bathroom.

Locking the door, she carefully removed the light switch face plate, then she took off her necklace and used dental floss to tie the necklace to the floss and then cutting the floss long, she tied the floss to the metal part of the light switch and then she dropped the necklace and rings into the wall and replaced the light switch cover.

Then leaving the bathroom, she shut off the light, with hands that trembled as she left that bathroom. The one she now shared with people that didn't clean up after themselves and little boys that peed on the floor and small children that didn't flush, at least she hoped it was small children.

She didn't know. It could have been the adults too.

Her showers became quick affairs, and in the last week, she'd had one woman tell her she was cute in a skinny kind of way and asked her if she was bi.

Which by the way she wasn't, but the woman hadn't stayed but two days, and she was grateful, been glad she was gone, even though the woman had easily taken no for an answer, with a shrug, like she didn't matter anyway.

Okay, she'd lived with a lot of people on a tour bus but this wasn't the same, nor for the faint of heart.

Shelly's babies got under her skin, as they'd cried and screamed until she finally offered to help the youth out by walking and bouncing the youngest as she'd hummed to the infant. It didn't always work but sometimes the tiny boy would calm, and chewing on his fist, he would sleep for a while.

Poor baby, he was teething and she gave him things like frozen  pop ice and chicken bones to gnaw on, and Shelly was glad for a break.

She'd also helped chase the three hellions boys that belonged to Haven, whose real name was Haley but she refused to be called by it. Early twenty's this was her third time to the shelter, and she still had her cell phone and her husband blew it up all day with texts and promises how things would change if she'd just come back.

Somehow, she doubted it was true but she could see the Haven was weakening and one day she was gone. Haven had gone back to him. Giving him one more chance and she hoped Haven survived the one more chance since she never saw her again.

And in the last week, she washed countless dishes and helped cooked meals and did laundry and pushed the vacuum. Never one to just sit, she'd even dusted and that hadn't been done in years from the dust she found layered on the shelves and the ceiling fans' blades.

But just about everyone worked here and she truly didn't mind that part of living together.

Yet, today as she walked through the common room and flopped down on a ratty couch to watch her own funeral with five other women, three of who also looked like they'd went the last round in the ring and lost, she thought damn she had fallen a hell of a long way and was still falling.

She was truly still free falling.

Just like all these women, all of them were lost and trying to find their way back, trying to make a life for themselves.

Okay, she sat in a room of strangers, yet, people who had somehow bonded with her.

"Can we watch something else?" Said, Rick, a teenage boy, who'd clearly thought this was entire gig was bullshit, but still he stood close to his mother, clearly guarding her and his little sister, who looked about six.

And his face looked beat up too, one eye black and his lip swelled and busted.

Seemed like some abusive people were equal opportunely employers.

Yeah, they'd beat anyone up from wives to children.

And that kid Rick wanted to be big enough to protect his mother, trying to stay close, like if he could he could keep her safe. 

She'd never realized that kids thought like that until she watched those kids surround their mother, clearly protecting her.

"No," came the chorus of voices.

"So shut and go read or something if you don't want to watch," said, Jessie. "This is history in the making."

"But they never found her body," said the teenager Rick, "And do I look like I read?"

"No, then just shut up. I'm watching this."

Her funeral was well attended and a media event. Eyes tearing, she watched her sister wipe tears on TV, her step-mother looking pained, and she noted her husband's pinched face, and she thought he looks high.

And who was that young girl standing right behind him?

God, she was dead and he was doing dope and had already replaced her with one of the women who hung around the back entries. One of the women, who put out, who liked sleeping with the band.

Oh yeah, she knew the type.

Crap. How could he stand there with her behind him at her funeral?

Talk about disrespecting the dead. He could at least wait to screw around on her after they put her empty coffin in the ground.

The jerk!

And Joel was playing up to the camera.

He looked heart broken, a linen handkerchief in his hand, as he wiped his eyes repeatedly. And the jerk was leaning on her sister, holding her hand.

While a voice whispered in her head, he's only sad that you've quit supporting him.

People that said they were her friends, but had known Joel abused her, attended too.

Yes, it was a regular media circus.

Joel, she was sure was only missing his paycheck, and she feared, no prayed, that he wouldn't figure out how she had gotten away, that she wasn't really dead, wasn't really gone, and she hoped he'd never find her.

And there was no way she would tell anyone who she really was, ever.

Yet, her body imploded as she forced herself to hold it together as she watched.

"Guess if you're rich you don't really need a body." Jessie turned and said to her.

She blinked as a gleaming wooden coffin in a glass carriage pulled by six white horses with feather plumes on their heads, slowly walked down the road to the graveyard.

"What do they think she's a Kennedy? Look at those horses. What do you think that cost?" Jessie asked her.

"Too much." She said dryly as she thought, trust Joel to spend x number of dollars to bury an empty freaking coffin when they were in trouble with the IRS.

And just think at one time she'd actually loved him. Now she hoped the IRS took every stinking dollar he had left plus interest.

"She was a pop star for pity sake. Not royalty. Talk about a waste of money."

Jessie wasn't winning any awards with her, though she could get behind that waste of money thing but she knew her publicist, Roy, was probably all for it, since digital sales would probably go through the roof. And she knew there was new music that they had been about to release.

Music that would no doubt make everyone but her a lot of money.

The industry was calculated and ran like a business.

Her death would be exploited while she was still a top story.

And this was free media and she guessed within a week there would be a new song release. It would probably be the sad one called "Lullaby" if she knew Roy.

She had to give Roy credit, he knew when to strike while the fire was hot.

Her eyes raked the screen taking in the fact her funeral was well attended. The camera panned to her sister grieving face then her husband's pinched face.

People were saying nice things about her into the mics.

What a bunch of two-faced clowns.

She started to laugh because her funeral was a regular media circus.

Jessie and a couple other women looked at her like she'd lost her ever loving mind.

And that just made her laugh harder.

Then Joel, who stood with that young girl behind him, the one she recognized as one of the groupies that hung out around the back, one of the girl's that put out, told all of America, and probably the world since this was going to end up on YouTube, how much he missed her.

Right. 

Bet he was screwing that girl standing behind him before the dirt settled on her empty grave right after he did a line.

And she kept laughing.

"Hey, Hope, what is wrong with you? You shouldn't laugh about the dead."

"Who said she's dead? I thought they never found the body?"

You should shut up, she told herself.

Stop playing with fire.

Jesse said, "Well she must be dead or she would have come forward by now. I mean she's rich, got a smoking hot husband, and clothes to die for. She has to be dead or she's have already called 911, and they'd have sent the FBI or some shit to pick her up. So young. So talented. What a shame."

"Yeah, a real damn shame," and she turned and walked away and went and cleaned out the refrigerator, scrubbing until it was spotless, while she wrote a song in her head.

A happy song about starting over. She was going to have to get a piece of paper and write it down. This was a good one.

No, a great one.

And a slight smile filled her face.

#####GF#####

Reviews. Thoughts and as always thanks for the read.


	7. Chapter 7

####GF#####

Yet, the women in women's shelter didn't give up on her. Ginger liked her because she helped out around the shelter and didn't complain. Frances liked her because she was level headed and handy, and Sandy, well she just tried to figure out how to get the truth out of her.

Sandy kept after her until she finally made up a story.

"I came from a couple counties over. Parents died a couple years back, one right after the other. No family left. I thought I could trust him. And he beat me up and left me on the side of the road. End of story."

The social security number question came up repeatedly.

She couldn't get health insurance without it.

She couldn't get any benefits from the state without it or get a driver's license.

Plainly, she didn't exist without it.

But if Sandy pushed, she offered to leave, and Sandy back pedaled since Frances liked her and Ginger loved the way she helped out around the shelter.

So, finally Sandy found her a job working in a local restaurant, washing dishes for cash.

Jim, the owner was gruff, in his sixties, with a crew cut and a large body that still had muscle, and he made it clear that he wasn't going to do this forever, but okay, he could help her for a little while.

"Just wash the dishes," he told her. "Keep everything clean and do what you're told. And we'll get along fine."

But Jim was a grouch, who no one could please, and just like before she couldn't keep her mouth shut and it didn't take long for them to start knocking heads.

She peeled pounds of potatoes and he frowned and told her to peel them thinner to which she replied, "If I washed them and left the skin on it would be healthier."

And Jim frowned harder, but he shrugged and said, "Try it and we'll see what the customers say."

The customers liked it and business picked up.

She chopped bunches of veggies for salads and told him, "You need to add streamed broccoli to the menu, it would go well with the steak and make your menu look heathier."

"Don't like little green trees," Jim had growled.

"That's because they're healthy and you probably cook it to death. And I haven't noted you liking anything that's healthy. But what about the customers? The world is changing, Jim. Healthy is in."

So streamed broccoli got added to the menu and adding streamed broccoli sold more steaks, but Jim still frowned, but he smiled a little bit at the extra sales.

"Your house salad is boring," she told him next, "and it's not pleasing to the eye."

"Boring," Jim roared at her, "Salad's supposed to boring. Pleasing to the eye, my ass. Food isn't supposed to be pleasing to the eye."

Chest puffed out, he glared down at her, but she knew he was all bark and no bite so she stood on her tiptoes and said heatedly, "That's where you're wrong. Food is all about the presentation. Pretty food sells. Iceberg lettuce, a couple of shredded carrots, and a slice of tomato is past boring and doesn't sell. It needs more color."

"Okay, smarty pants. Show me what you'll do? Make salad not boring." Jim snarled and his face went dark, clearly, daring her.

"I will. Watch me."

So she added some yellow bell pepper strips, some red lettuce, a little cheese, and some homemade garlic croutons made from leftover bread, along with the carrots and the tomato and put a salad out on the counter and salad sales went through the roof.

Jim stood there with his arms crossed as people brought salad and shook his head, while she smiled as she walked past and said, "I told you so."

And she washed mountains of dishes, and Jim frowned at her then too.

She'd begun to think that Jim enjoyed frowning.

The kitchen was filthy in her opinion, along with the cooler. It took her over two weeks to bring the kitchen up to what she considered even close to being within codes, and she still had work to do.

It was almost closing and Jim came through and barked, "Your shift was over twenty minutes ago. I told you twenty hours and that's all I'm paying. Don't have the money for extra time, especially for someone who's getting paid cash."

She continued mopping the floor, ignoring his jab but he wasn't done. "You hear me? I'm not paying any more than that. And I'm only doing that as a favor to Sandy."

Leaning on the mop, she frowned, knowing that he was accusing her of trying to pad her pay check, and she snapped.

"I'm not trying to cheat you. I know twenty hours is all I get. I've signed out already, so you don't have to be ugly to me."

"Then what are you still doing here?"

"Do you pay the health inspector off or what?"

"That's not funny and you signed out really?"

"Yeah, I signed out. Go check if that makes you feel better."

"Well you should have." Now his face looked thoughtful, "But you didn't answer the question. If you signed out then what are you still doing here? Working when you're not getting paid, girl that plump crazy. No one does that."

"Well I do. The floor was terrible and needed mopped. Now, step back, you're going to track up my floor."

"Bossy little thing aren't you and it's my floor by the way." He grumbled but he stepped back.

"I'm the one mopping it so that makes it mine right now. You want to own it then you mop it."

She offered him the mop.

Jim snickered then said, "Must be your floor after all. Carry on if you think it's that bad but don't take too long since I'm ready to lock up. And I still can't believe you're standing here mopping on your time off."

"If I want to mop on my time off, I'll mop on my time off. You know people do things sometimes just because they need done. Plus, the grease is so bad, I'm sticking to the floor, and yes, I'm almost finished."

"Good," he looked at his watch.

"Oh, by the way, I also got the chicken out to thaw for tomorrow. It's in the cooler."

"Who said I was cooking chicken tomorrow?"

Did nothing please this man? She looked up and asked for patience as she explained, "It's Wednesday. I've been here several weeks now. You've cook chicken every Wednesday."

Pulling the mop bucket over to the drain, she dumped the dirty water, filled it with some clean water and rinsed out the mop.

Her boss crossed his arms in from of his broad chest and frowned before he said, "Well maybe I was going to cook something else this Wednesday. You could ask me next time."

"If that's what you want, but if you want to cook something else. I got some ideas."

Jim put his large hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes at her before he said, "Don't you always. Why don't you just go home, Hope? Get a life? Date some one? Don't you have better things to do?"

Her face fell and she stiffened. Slowly, she wrung the mop out and began to rinse the bucket out.

"Damn, I didn't mean . . . Well, shit." He looked down at his feet.

Her face reddened but she pushed that back. She had to get tougher skin, since she had chosen this path and was going to walk it. Straightening her back, she said crisply, "No, Jim. I don't have better things to do right now. I can't read or watch TV because it gives me a headache. I've already missed the evening meal, and you know where I'm living."

"Hope, you don't have to do this. I spoke out of turn. I wasn't thinking."

"Yes, I do have to do this. I know I'm living in the shelter on other people right now. And getting all those kids, I think there are ten of them right now, getting those kids get ready for bed is a bit of a three ringed circus, though it's not so bad on a normal day, but I've already got a headache, so I can't take the noise right now."

"Headache?"

"Yeah, you can think what you want but the shelter is truly a step up from laying sick on the street and people walking over me like I'm so much trash because my clothes were dirty, and I'd lost my shoes. But when my head hurts, I like this quiet kitchen. I can think here. I, oh, never mind. I'll go. I've already said too much."

Tears were threatening, as she hung the mop up and turned the mop bucket over to dry. But she squared her shoulders and walked by him with her chin up.

"You were lying on the street sick? When?" There was danger in his voice.

"A few weeks ago."

"Where?" He barked out the word.

"Here, in front of some store. I don't know where but I was sick and the people in this town wouldn't even call 911. Look I don't want to talk about this."

"Well I want to talk about it. Now I want you to tell me your real name. Enough is enough. I get that you're hiding but if you'd just give me your social security number, I'll put you on full time."

She felt the blood leave her face, and she turned away.

"Hope, if you'd just give me your number."

"I can't. I don't have one I can use."

"Darling, everyone has a social. And why do you have a headache?"

"Not me. Not anymore. And I need glasses. I used to wear contacts but I lost one and the other one's expired, so I'm out of luck. Sandy's working on getting me another pair of glasses through some club in town, but for now this is the way it is."

"Kiwanis Club, no doubt, and what makes you think he'll find you if you give me your social? What makes you think that you're that important? Ain't like the world's looking for you. Just give me your damn number."

She hung her head and bit her lip.

"You're right it's getting late. I need to get out of here." Turning, she pulled her jacket off the peg.

"Hope's not your name is it?"

His words were kind but that didn't stop her stomach from bottoming out.

"Like I said, I've got to go."

"Look, girl, I can't pay you under the table forever. Give me your real name. I'll help you. I was a Navy Seal. I can keep you safe from him."

"Thanks for what you've done."

"Hope?"

"Look, I'm not going back there, ever. I don't care what I have to do, but I'm not going back." There was a catch in her voice, but she met his eyes as she slowly took off her apron with the words, "Thanks for all your help. I understand. Could I get my pay, please?"

"Whoa, slow down. Hey, I never said you were fired. We'll figure something out."

"How, Jim?"

"Just chill for now. Come to work and let me think on it. But no more than twenty hours, you mind me or my accountant will skin me."

"Okay. And Jim, I hope you don't mind me telling you this but your biscuits suck. They're heavy and hard even before they get cold."

The man looked at her like she'd gone insane, before he suppressed a grin then ask, "You think you can do better?"

"With my eyes closed."

"Be here at 5 a.m. and show me."

"It's dark at 5 a.m. and I have to walk."

"Can't have that. Come on I'll take you home."

"I can't tell you where I live."

"Hope, this a small town. Do you not think I know where the shelter is?"

#####GF######

"Breakfast trade has picked up," Jim grumbled a couple of weeks later as she flipped a burger and then artfully arranged the lettuce, pickle and broccoli, then added the French fries and rang the bell for Lizzy to pick the order up.

"And you're complaining? But then you're breathing so of course you are."

She dropped another basket of fries, with a slight smile on her face. She liked short order cooking, and it was a real step up from washing the dishes and doing prep, though she still had her hand in some of that too. Mainly, she was bossing the new guy though.

Jim grinned. "You need to get a move on."

"Why?"

Turning, she reached and grabbed an order and cleaned the grill with quick movements then started a steak.

"You have an appointment today."

She set the timer since the customer had order medium rare, grabbed the seasoning and sprinkled the meat just before she flipped the steak over.

"Not that I know of."

"Eye doctor at 1:30 p.m. Watch your steak."

She froze, a slight smile breaking her face. "I set the timer. And seriously? But I don't have the money. And glasses cost hundreds of dollars. I can't afford them."

"How you going to keep cooking if I'm not sure how well you're seeing? You're getting glasses."

"I can't accept them."

"Yes, you can and it's no big deal. I made a couple calls and talked to Sandy. The club's going to cover it."

"Now look Jim, I'm not a charity case. I'm saving."

He growled at down at her. "And what in a year, you can get glasses?"

"Maybe, but I can't just accept."

"Yes you can. Sandy called and it's set up, and she'll be to get you in about thirty minutes. Girl when you going to get a phone? I'm getting tired of being your call center."

"I can't afford a phone and who would I call? And I can't afford glasses."

The timer went off.

"Steak, Hope. Don't mess up the order."

"I'm not and I'm not getting glasses."

"You know how to shoot a gun, girl?"

"No." She plated the steak and added the fries, broccoli and a pickle, turned and rang the bell.

"Well you need glasses if I'm going to teach you to shoot."

"I don't need to learn how to shoot a gun."

"Not going to argue with your hard head. You're going to learn. You still taking those self-defense classes?"

"Yeah, and I'm about to start teaching a basic class."

"That's great but I'm still going to teach you to shoot a gun. We'll start with a baby, a twenty five automatic. You just got to learn to empty the clip and throw it at them and run."

"Really funny, Jim."

"Not joking, I going to help make sure that you have a chance if need be."

"You're confusing me here, Jim. I don't need that."

"Bullshit. You won't tell anyone your real name."

"I'm cooking here, Jim. Not the time."

"Never the time with you. But I get it. You've severed all times. And you're never going back so you've disappeared off the grid."

"Jim, enough. Stop talking." She reached for another ticket and he grabbed her hand and looked her straight in the eyes.

"If you want me to shut up then go and clean up, since Sandy's on her way. Blind cooks are dangerous you know."

And she laughed out loud and Jim grinned at her, then she went and got cleaned up and went to the eye doctor appointment.

#####GF#####

Thoughts? Hope you are enjoying this story. And as always thanks for the read.


	8. Chapter 8

#####GF#####

Four months later, she slammed the alarm off at 4:00 a.m. and reached for the dark frames and put them on.

 The frames were black, plastic and kinda ugly, but she didn't care, since the view was sharp and clear now and her headaches were a thing of the past.  Besides she’d never really been vain.

And that was something she was grateful for because this time in her life was not the time for vainity.

Rolling out of bed, she hit the floor and moved into the bathroom. Taking care of business, she then started to brush her teeth. Her cell phone rang like it did every morning now, and she answered it with a grin and Jim said, "Morning, darling. Time to make the biscuits. Leaving the house now.”

“Morning, Jim. Want coffee?"

“Yeah, see you in twenty.”

“Yeah.” And she ended the call.

Unplugging her cell phone, the one Jim’d insisted she have, she pocket it. It was an old dumb phone and one that somehow got new minutes every month, and Jim had given it to her in Jim style, with a frown, a snarl and the words, “You walk too damn much. Ain’t safe. Got a smart one I pay for so you can use this one. And it’s a burner so it’s safe.”

“A burner?”

“Yeah, use it and toss it kind of phone just keep your history erased. Use your brain and learn the numbers you dial and don’t leave anyone a way to trace people back to you. You going to stay off the grid then you gonna be smart. I’ll teach you what I can.”

With habit, she deleted Jim’s number as an incoming call.

Looking in the mirror, she realized Gem Fire was truly gone now, that she’d finally disappeared. Wearing her hair short, she’d let it go back to the mousey brown, the blonde long gone.

Living in second hand clothes, in faded blue jeans and soft tees, she looked and felt more relaxed than she had in years.

And she liked it, hell no she loved it.

Stretching, she started her day. Jim would be here in twenty minutes to pick her up for work. He’d refused to let her walk in the dark, and since she had no way to get a driver's license, he insisted on picking her in every morning she worked. It wasn’t like she minded, Jim was like family now.

It was a shame he was over thirty years older, but there was no spark there for either of them. She thought of him as a grandfather, a friend, even a father figure, and he in turn had never had children, and he treated her with respect and she had a feeling she amused him.

And maybe he amused her in his gruff own way.

Walking toward the tiny kitchen, she made coffee and smiled at small efficiency apartment she now lived it.

It wasn’t much, yet it was hers.

Her eyes lit on her twelve string Ovation, and she remembered where the guitar had come from.

Yes, she remembered her beautiful Glen Campbell special that she’d spent weeks looking for, after she’d realized it was time to go back to the music.

The music had been rushing inside her, filling her, and almost smothering her since for the first time in a long time she was at peace inside. She had the diner, and Jim, and she still helped at the shelter. She taught a simple self-defensive class. And the music was filling her again, and there was no way she could dam up the music's flow.

Oh, yes, she’d tried but she couldn’t, which meant she had to have a guitar and not just any guitar but the right guitar and that meant it had to be an Ovation and a twelve string at that.

So she’d walked to the library and searched the pawn shops, making calls on her burner phone as she looked for a guitar.

When Live Oaks’ pawn shops had come up empty, she’d branched out. After several calls she found three possibilities in Tallahassee, which wasn’t that far, unless you were walking like she was. And the last place she wanted to be the last city when she had been Gem Fire but she needed a guitar.

Yes the need for the music was burning her up inside.

She had to have a guitar.

And it had to be a twelve string Ovation, a Glen Campbell Ovation at that.

She couldn’t explain why but that was what she needed.

So she talked Jim into taking a day off and letting her pay for gas and take her round to the pawn shops.

The first two were a bust. The first was an Ovation but only a six string, and the second the neck was broken. The bell rang over her head as she and Jim entered the last pawnshop. It was cluttered and full of everything from video games consoles to knives and kitchen appliances. But it was like the guitar was calling her name when she saw the hard shell brown Ovation case in the corner.

“Be right with you,” came a male voice from the back.

The dust was pretty thick and the handle was gone from the case but she didn’t care as she opened the case.

It was a real beauty, an early eighties Glen Campbell edition, black bowl-backed, inlaid with ivory and she smiled.

“You want a deal,” Jim said quietly, “Stop being so interested. Check that smile, though I honestly didn’t know you could smile like that.”

“Shut up, Jim.” But she wiped the smile off her face.

Chording a G, she hit the strings and winced. It was way out of tune, as in way out of tune. Turning it, she looked down the neck. Yes, it needed a little work but nothing an alan wrench couldn’t fix. The guitar also needed a new set of strings. She checked the keys and found two that were on the verge of needing replaced.

That was okay since she knew Ovation would replace the keys for free, since their guitars were warrantied for the life of the guitar. She just had to call them with a model number.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” A balding man with a large belly sauntered toward her.

“How much?”

“Like that is it?” The man stroked his chin and then said, “Six hundred and I’ll throw in the case.”

“The case is broken. The neck needs repair and two of the keys are bad.”

“Sounds like you play.”

“A little,” she hedged. “How about two?” And she held up two fingers.

“You’re dreaming. No way am I going two.”

She strummed the guitar and cringed as it set her teeth on edge before she stuck the guitar out and said, “You hear that? It sounds like crap. It needs someone to work on it. I’ll go two fifty. Cash.”

Jim’s frown wavered for an instant then settled back in place.

“Maybe it’s you that can’t play. Four hundred.” He countered.

She strummed one last time put the guitar back in its broken case and shut the lid and flipped the latches shut.

“No it’s the guitar. Sounds like a cat dying. Needs some work. I give you three crisp one hundred bills. And that’s as high as I go since I have to put more money in it.”

“Three hundred then you got to play me a song. I got another twelve string over there. It’s a Martin if you’re interested but I want a grand for it.”

“Too rich for my blood. But you have a deal.” She pulled three one hundred dollar bills from her pocket and walked over and laid them on the glass, with the words, “And I want a receipt.”

“Who you want me to make it to?”

“Franklin.”

“Franklin?” His brow wrinkled.

“Yeah, Benjamin Franklin.” She tapped the face on the hundred dollar bill.

Jim ducked his head this time and clearly surpassed a smile.

The man also grinned as he wrote her a receipt then handed it to her with a flourish.

“There you go little lady, and I think you owe me a song.”

Turning, she looked at the Martin twelve string hanging from the hook. Reaching, she took it down, and said, “Got a request?

“Know Amazing Grace.”

“Yeah, I do. If I can remember the chords. But I’m only doing the first verse since my fingers are out of practice and the Martin is different that the Ovation. You got a stool or folding chair?”

“Sure do,” and he disappeared for an instant and returned with metal chair.

Sitting, with nimble fingers, she strummed the Martin, stopping to tune as she went as she quickly rang through the strings, adjusting where needed, until the sound rang clear and sweet.

Jim gave a slight smile as he looked down at her, and she met his eyes and grinned since she could have sworn he just winked at her.

Clearing her mind, she did what came natural, back when playing guitar had been fun, had given her joy, she just shut her eyes and played.

The music soared within her, rich steady and sweet, she sang Amazing Grace and she went away and only the song, the music remained but she finished the verse, she opened her eyes and found that the man was recording her with his cell phone.

“Lordy, women, you can sing. That was awesome.”

Her heart pounding, she reddened and said heatedly, “I didn’t say you could record me. Delete it.”

“You didn’t say I couldn’t, and I want to share that with my wife.”

Breathing became impossible, as she realized she had may have just majority messed up. Her stomach went queasy.

“Sorry but I’d appreciate it if you’d delete that.”

“No way. Girl, the way you sing. You remind me of someone.”

Standing now, she moved closer to him. “I mean it. Delete it. You didn’t have my permission.” Her voice was rising as her voice cracked.

Jim moved and stepped into the man’s space with the words, “She wants it deleted so you’re gonna delete it.”

The man puffed out his chest and Jim leaned in, clearly a good foot taller than the man and in a lot better shape as he growled the words, “I’m waiting.”

“Fine, whatever. Don’t see what the big deal is.” His thumbs moved and he said, “There are you happy now.”

“Get your guitar, girl.” Jim ordered.

She moved and got the guitar and headed out the door as the man said, “I’m telling you that you remind me of someone.”

Stuffing the guitar into the car’s back seat, she opened the car door and climbed in. With jerky movements, she buckled her seat belt as she fought tears.

Jim got in and slammed the car door. Turning the key, he started the engine and pulled out into traffic.

And after they got back on the interstate, he said, “You got a nice voice, Hope. Maybe someday, you’ll play for me again.”

Nodding, she said, “Okay. Someday.”

“Sounds good, now you want to go and get some lunch.”

“Sure.” But she lied knowing she wasn’t hungry.

#####GF#####

The coffee maker gurgled finishing up, and she snapped back to the present as her eyes landed on her Ovation.

She’d found she physically needed her guitar now. The happier she’d become harder, the harder she found it not to sing. Music was a part of her and she’d missed that part of herself, that part she'd enjoyed before singing became a job, a chore. But now with a light heart, sometimes at work she sang low with the radio.

And sometimes, Jim and the other’s would smile at her and they’d listen.

But she told no one anyone her history.  No she continued to be a master at being vague, and never spoke of the guitar that she played in the evenings after work.

She’d decided that she couldn't shut down the song writing part of herself, so she brought a notebook at the dollar store and created her own sheet music and wrote anyway.

Then she moved up to printing sheet music off the computer at the public library, and she found that she smiled as she wrote.

And for the first time in forever, she found herself content.

Pouring coffee in two travel mugs, she grabbed her keys and locked up.

Standing on the stoop in the dark waiting for Jim's older Chevy Impala to pull up to the curve at 4:30 promptly, she bounced with excitement for the day. She’d been working a song in her head and it was about to come together.

She could feel it.

The car came to a complete stop, and she opened the passenger door and gave him a grin as she slid in and handed him his coffee.

"Morning beautiful."

Jim had taken to called her that a while back, and she'd given up on trying to make him stop.

Instead of fighting him, she grinned and said, "Time to make the biscuits and mine are still better than yours."

“Whatever, I just let you think that.”

She grinned as she waited for him to put the car in gear, but he didn’t.

Instead, he said, "Hope, I got you something. Something important."

Pulling an envelope out of his jacket, he handed it to her.

Her chested tightened as she joked, "Pink slip?"

"Open it."

His voice was intense, and she realized his knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

Cracking the seal, she opened the envelope and then inhaled sharply.

It was good thing she was sitting down since her legs would have refused to hold her.

Tears flowing, she read the birth certificate in her hands, a birth certificate that said "Hope Marie Stanley," and a social security card fluttered to the floor beside her.

Picking it up, it also said her name.

"I liked Marie for a middle name. I've always liked it. Always thought if I had a daughter I'd name her that," Jim said quietly.

"It's perfect."

She was going to cry.

The possibilities ran through her brain.

She could have a driver's license again, a car, and health insurance.

She'd be free again.

She wouldn't have to walk again ever.

Unless she wanted too.

Freedom that's what this meant.

Freedom, she savored the word.

"I exist," she said out loud as she hugged the precious id to her chest.

"Yeah, darling you exist."

And he grinned broadly at her.

Her past was officially gone, and she knew she had Jim to thank for it. Carefully, she replaced the documents in the envelope keeping them close to her the entire time.

"Jim, you didn't have too." Unable to help herself, she moved and kissed his check and heard him sigh.

She was beside herself as she clutched her paperwork to her.

"Listen to me, Hope. Get a grip since I know who you are. It took me a while but I figured it out.”

She inhaled sharply before she said, “I’m Hope.”

“I understand that’s what you’ve got, that you’ve got hope but that isn’t your name.”

Her chest tightened and squeezed as he said, “I’ve known since we went to Tallahassee. Lord girl you sing like an angel, and I maybe old but I know how to work a computer. You’re the woman who went into the Suwanee. The woman who disappeared. The star.”

“Stop. Please, I . . . can’t do this.” She reached for the door handle, and he reached and grabbed her arm, holding her in place.

“Wait, don’t freak out. I’m telling you that I’ve known for weeks. I’m not going to bust you out. Just listen to me. I have to tell you something.”

"I'm listening."

Yet, her heart was pounding so loud she could hear it in her ears.

“I saw you that day on the street," he hissed the words.

“What day?”

“That day you were lying sick on the street.”

His voice was hard and brittle.

"I was going to the bank, making a deposit, and I stepped right over you. Saw your face was messed up. Saw that you were beaten up. . . took it all in.”

He hesitated and looked away from her as he said, “I pretended not to see you. What the hell was I thinking? A woman beat up and lying on the sidewalk. And I walked over you."

"Jim, please don't. Just let it go.”

"No, listen to me. I now know that you were sick, and I fucking stepped over you.  What was I thinking? You were beat up, beat to shit, and I stepped over you. Never going to see you look like that again, Hope. NOT EVER!"

"A lot of people stepped over me. Not just you."

"And they shouldn't have. They should have called 911. I should have called fucking 911. That’s how far I’ve fallen from being a human being. I just stepped over sweet you."

"I survived. Don’t blame yourself. It’s okay."

"No it's not okay. I left you lying on the street. Totally not acceptable."

"I survived. I’ve moved past it and you need to too."

"No, so what I’m doing is trying to make it right. Look, I was a Navy Seal, and still got some connections, so I used them and now you can start over. You can be Hope. And you and I got some stuff to talk about. Some more stuff I'm going to teach you and one of them is learning how to completely defend yourself, so no one ever get to hurt you again if I train you. So if you're game, just say the words."

She looked him up and down then said, "I'm game."

"Good since I'm gonna teach you.”

And he did.

Hence he taught her how to shoot a gun, along with some more self-defense. She found a decent rent to own house that was close to the river, and she moved and truthfully life was pretty darn good.

A social security number allowed her to work full time. She enrolled in the Market Place and got health insurance.

After taking her driver’s test in Jim’s car, she found a used Chevy that was only ten years old and started making car payments, along with insurance payment.

She continued to make changes at the diner, and Jim just sighed and let her and business continued to be good, which meant a lot of days she sang as she worked.

Helping out at the shelter, she now picked battered women up and took them and their children to the shelter, and she took the long way to make sure she wasn’t followed.

And at nights as she sat and wrote music, and she realized that she was free.

Okay, a little lonely, but still free and it felt good and most nights she slept well.

Yeah, life was good.

Okay, maybe too good.

#####GF#####

Reviews? Come on, be the one. Talk to me. And as always thanks for the read.

 


	9. Chapter 9

One year earlier.

"Shit," said the James, the tour bus driver , as he slammed the braked hard enough to wake him.

 Gerald had been dozing in his seat, not really sleeping, since he'd been pissed when he got on the tour bus, really pissed that he's allowed her to get in that car with Joel.

If she hadn't touched him and told him it'd be okay, he wouldn't have walked away when he truly wanted to throw her over his shoulder and put her on the tour bus and then beat Joel's ass.

So what if he was her husband?

He wanted to pound the drugging punk into the ground for the way the man touched her, for the way he'd man handled her, the way he'd jerked her around and the way he'd talked to her when he thought no one was listening.

Well he'd been listening.

And since he was head of her security and her personal body guard, yeah, he'd heard, and Jesus, it was all he could do to not put his hands, his fists, on the man, to finally show the jerk what being man handled truly meant.

And yes, he noted the bruises, noted the way she held herself at times, and he'd considered quitting his job, so he could beat the hell out of her husband.

But that meant he couldn't be around her, meant he couldn't put his hands on her as he walked her though the crowds, meant he would have to step out of her obit, and meant he couldn't make sure she was as safe as he could keep her.

That didn't' mean he didn't want, so he swallowed hard and stayed out of Ms. Gem and Joel's relationship.

Rubbing his face with his hands, he took in the stopped traffic and stood and walked to the front of the bus.

"Wreck?"

He had a bad feeling in his gut, a knot in his stomach.

"Probably," said James. "Not close enough to see. You might as well go back to sleep. Looks like it's gonna be a while. Nothing's moving on this side, and no way to get off, and if you look the other side is crawling too."

"Rubber necking. Must be a good one."

Again his stomach clinched and a bad taste filled his mouth.

Turning, he popped the overhead latch and grabbed his duffle bag and went in the small bathroom and slipped off his dress shoes, then changed into jogging pants, t-shirt and a hoodie.

Hanging his suit up on a hanger, he slipped on running shoes then exited the bathroom, and placed his suit in the wardrobe closet, right beside one of Ms. Gem's flashy outfits, and again he had a bad feeling.

Moving quickly, he put his duffle away, then walked to the front of the bus.

They hadn't moved.

None of the cars had moved.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he eyed the blue lights in the distance and he said to James, "Open the door. I'm going to take a walk. Check it out."

"You know the cops won't appreciate you getting out."

"Like I care?"

James grinned then ask, "You got your phone?"

"Yeah, call me if the traffic starts moving and you can pick me up."

He had done two tours in the army, special forces, and kept in good shape, so it didn't take him long to jog closer to the wreck scene.

The sound of incoming helicopter reached his ears, and he jerked his head up and watched it rapidly draw closer and as it flew over his head, he recognized the word News and saw there were capital letters and his stomach plummeted.

Why would the news be here?

A car crash was news but big enough to send a helicopter?

Unless?

He ran faster.

His heart pounded.

Truly pounded in his chest and he knew it was bad.

The interstate was a multi-car pileup.

A real mess met his eyes.

He inhaled sharply.

What a real mess, he thought as  he counted seven cars scattered around the interstate.

Most of them looked like fender benders, with a few cars were totaled from hitting the bridge or from hitting other people's cars.

But, yet the bulk of the people were standing on the bridge looking into the water, shinning lights into the water.

He didn't do fear yet he felt true fear.

A man sat on the ground, with a blanket on his shoulders and as he got closer the blood rushed in his ears.

Moving, he reached and hauled Joel to his feet with the words, "You asshole where is she? Where the hell is Ms. Gem?"

Joel looked toward the river and jerked away with the words, "There was a deer in the road."

"WHERE IS SHE?"

"We went into the river, into the water. I got out. She didn't."

And he knew.

God he knew.

"You got out. What'd the hell you do leave her in the damn car? Leave her to drown?"

"I . . ."

"I what? Your drugged up ass left her drown? Didn't you? What after your high ass wrecked the car? You let her drowned didn't you? You killed her."

The man looked down and his body language betrayed him.

"Damn you. You fucking killed her. I knew I shouldn't have let her get in the car with your sorry ass. I knew I should have put her on the bus. You ass."

He punched him solidly in the face, and the man screamed, grabbing his bleeding nose, and arms were pulling on him, holding him back.

"Calm down. Just calm down. If you don't chill you're going to end up in jail."

Hands pulled against him, pulling him back.

Forced himself, he rein his rage in.

But his anger raged and he demanded harshly, "Have you recovered her dead body yet?"

"Don't say that."

He spat the words. "Why, you left her for dead?"

"Shut up. Maybe she's not dead. Maybe she's just down river. Maybe she made it out of the car."

"After you left her. You put her in the river and then left her to drown."

Joel at least looked at the ground.

"You fucking ass. How could you do that to her? You married her. She was sweet. So fucking sweet. You were supposed to love her."

"I . . ."

"I what? Fuck you. How could you leave her like that? How could you just leave her to fucking drown? You're a total asshole. I should beat you to death. Right fucking now."

"You're fired."

"Good. Thank you."

"Thank you?"

"Yeah."

And he punched him in the face again and again.

Hard enough it hurt his hand, and he didn't even fight them or care as the cops wrestled him to the ground and cuffed him and put him in the police car.

But he wanted too.

#####GF#####

#####JF#####

Two and a half years later, Angelina Brooks settled herself into his worn office chair. A pretty young girl, he'd met several times in the past. She was the half-sister of Gem Fire, the women, who'd tragically disappeared into the Sewanee River in Florida, on his watch.

Something, he'd never ever really gotten over.

No, everything time he thought about it, he still felt an intense burn in his gut, a rage at himself for allowing her to get it that damn car.

Yet, he forced himself to school his face and be pleasant as he ask, "What do you want Lena?"

"Straight to the point but I would expect nothing less, Gerald, since you've given up being a body guard and become an investigative reporter. I've seen your name in print several times lately."

He picked up a pen and spun it between his fingers as he nodded his head.

"What was that article you had published the other day in the Times?"

"Old news, Lena, just like me being a body guard, but that's how the newspaper business works."

"How's that, Gerald." She smiled then crossed her long legs in that really short shirt she had on, and yeah, he was a man, so he looked at those legs in those red high heels.

But she still didn't have shit on her sister's legs but maybe he was just partial.

Forcing his eyes up, he said, "News today and lining the bird's cage tomorrow catching bird shit. That's the news and the way it works."

"Okay, well I want to hire you to find my sister."

"I'm not in the people finding business."

But he had looked for her for weeks after she had gone missing. He still had feelers out.

However, almost three years was a very long time.

"Then I want to hire you to write an exclusive on my sister."

"Your sister's death's been written from every angle. The story woudn't sell without a fresh angle." He gave a wave of his hand, "It'd be a waste of my time. And I don't waste my time."

"You've never given your side of the story," she said quietly. "And there's still no body."

"I know that since I was there when they pulled that damn sports car out of the water and her body wasn't in it."

She grinned at him before she said, "After you punched Joel out and went to jail for it. I want to thank you again by the way."

"He deserved more than those few punches."

Oh, yeah, he'd wanted to kill the bastard for killing her, for wasting her life, and they'd drug him off her piece of shit husband.

Just breaking his nose wasn't even close to justice.

Her face took on a pained expression before she said, "I agree. But it's been almost three years since they wrecked, and they still haven't found her body. The insurance company doesn't believe she's dead and refuses to pay and after last week, I don't either."

"Go on." He wasn't sure he believed she was dead either, and he'd spent some time looking for her but he'd continued to come up empty.

"If she's dead then where is her body? Three years is a long time. I mean, the river should have given her up by now. She was in that car when it hit the water. The divers recovered her purse and her shoes. She's not Alice and didn't fall in a rabbit hole. So where did she go? I could pay you."

He looked her sister up and down before he said, "I'm sorry. I'd just be taking your money if I wrote the story. And last I hear you didn't have any money. "

She seemed sincere and looked a little freaked out.

"Actually, what I need to do is work out a deal."

"A deal?"

"Yeah, if you'll take the case, I'll give you a percentage of the sales from her new music."

"Her new music?" Okay now he couldn't help it, he sat up straighter in his chair and paid attention as he said, "What new music?"

Reaching in her large bag, she pulled out a stack of paper, which she handed to him with the words, "I'm telling you she's alive. She's hiding. First these came."

Opening the first envelope, he scanned the computer generated words, "From the top of your head."

The post mark was Panama City, Florida.

"You do know that this is on plain white paper and could have come from anywhere."

"I know that. So I didn't give it much thought at first. But then the second came about six months later."

She handed him another envelope.

Opening, the second it said, "To the tip of your nose."

And was post marked from Fort Myers, Florida.

His heart was starting to pound.

"You never mentioned this before now, why?"

"Gerald, it isn't like we are close but then the third one showed up."

And the third paper said, "All the way down to your hard to find toes."

And it came from Key West.

"Lena you're aware this is probably a hoax. You know Joel offered that reward and that generated all kinds of nut cases. Do these make sense to you?"

"BJ is twelve years older than me. She used to tuck me in, and she made that up for me. From the top of your head, to the tip of nose, all the."

He finished it with words, "way down to your hard to find toes. Are you sure that someone didn't know that? Someone that could be playing you?"

His mind scrambled trying to remember if he could remember reading that little poem anywhere.

And he couldn't.

His chest tightened.

"The first one came just months after the wreck. And it got lost for a while, I found it one day going through some papers. And I cried. The next one came around the anniversary of her death."

She held up her hand.

"I know. I know. Someone's playing me. My friends said the same thing."

"Have there been any demands for money?"

"None."

"None?" He twisted the pen in his fingers.

"Yeah, None. And the whole world knows there's no money left."

"But she was rolling in it."

"Between the IRS and her husband Joel's gambling and drug debts there's not much left. He's managed to party what's left of her estate away and sold most of what they'd amassed."

"Why am I not surprised?"

But then the clincher was what arrived last week."

She leaned toward him and threw a large stack of paper held by a binder on his desk.

Opening the binder, he found handwritten sheet music and each page was signed by Betty Joe Taylor.

He noted it was maiden name, if she was truly alive then she'd effectively severed any rights her husband had to the music.

If she was alive this was smart.

"Are these real?"

Excitement filled him, and his stomach plunged.

God, what if Gem Fire was alive?

What if he could find her?

What a coup for him that would be.

And lord, he could touch her again.

His hand trembled and he closed his hand into a fist.

This could change his entire life.

What if he could find her?

"You've had them authenticated?"

"Yeah, or I wouldn't be here. It's her hand writing."

"But that's impossible. Do you realize how much her hand written music could be worth? The woman was a genius when it came to song writing."

His mind was spinning as he thought of the possibilities.

What if she was truly still alive?

Alive and breathing?

"I'll give you a percentage of her music if you help me find my sister. I want to find my sister."

"How much?"

"Five percent?"

"Try more like twenty."

"Ten?"

"Twenty, since I'm going out on a limb here and will have to use my own resources."

"Fifteen." She smiled at him and batted her eye lashes.

Hardly impressed him.

Her sister was way hotter.

"Twenty five?"

"Alright twenty."

"And I'll have that in writing, with witnesses, and you'll pay me even if I don't find her, and I'll write the story. Since it doesn't seem like your sister wants to be found."

"Maybe she's got reasons. But that's what I want you to find out. You're the investigator reporter, find the truth. You find my sister and you have the exclusive and twenty percent cut of these songs. Plus, you'll solve the question of this decade."

"Yeah, where in the world did Gem Fire go when she hit that water?"

"Exactly."

#####

Another chapter down. I look forward to any and all reviews. And as always thanks for the read.


	10. Chapter 10

#####GF#####

Gerald opened his co

#####GF#####

Gerald opened his computer and typed in her name.

Bracing himself, he clicked images and searched through the millions of picture hits that came back.

Pictures of Joel and her on the red carpet flooded his screen. He saw award pictures, and fan pictures, literally millions of fan pictures.

Scenes of the wreck came next and he pasted on the pictures of the wreck, changing over to a text search.

No the wreck was too painful.

How had he missed the fact that Joel was going to kill her?

Yes, he'd been there and didn't feel the need to rehash or revisit the crash scene ever again.

No he couldn't stand it, and he'd closed the page.

Yes, instead, he changed tactics and hunted her school yearbook.

It'd taken a while but he'd finally found her senior picture, back when she'd worn thick glasses and she'd had long dark hair.

It looked nothing like Gem Fire.

And he copied her picture and then took a picture with his phone.

With care, he started making phone calls. He started making contact with people who'd worked with her in the industry.

Joel, her husband,  flatly refused to take his call, and he couldn't get past the gates of his mansion to even try to speak with the man in person.

But him breaking Joel's nose the night she'd disappeared might have something to do with that decision.

Her past publicist gave him lip service.

"Yes, her death was a tragedy for the music business and there have been no further clues as to what happened to Gem Fire."

Hitting dead end after dead end, it was hard not get frustrated.

He managed to talk to her Glenn, her hair stylist, and the woman teared up talking about how nice the woman had been.

But then he'd known that since he'd worked beside her himself for two years.

Several members of her band were willing to talk to him on the phone. All of them said she was awesome to play with and was a hard worker. And none of them admitted to knowing a thing about her personal life.

It was frustrating as all get out especially since he knew they were lying to him.

He'd been there and knew there had been trouble in paradise.

Yet, it was the business and you kept your mouth shut if you wanted to work in the business.

Finally, he managed to schedule a meeting with a roadie who'd worked over five years for her and was willing to talk to him.

Logan Mitchell had the look of a solider, solid build with muscles and sported a six pack. But then the man moved heavy equipment for a living. He set up and torn down the stages and packed the semi, so they could roll to another town and do it all away.

Yet, he moved with a certain grace as he slid into the booth at the bar they were meeting in.

He extended his hand and said, "Logan, it's been a long time. Good to see you."

"Gerald, how the hell are you? Been years now."

And the two men shook hands, each testing the other, and he didn't find the large man lacking as the man solidly gripped his hand.

"Can I record this?" He reached for his phone.

"No."

"No? You agreed to meet and I can't record it."

"Yeah, I said no. Sorry, I should have warned you, but I'm only going to talk off the record."

"Off the record?"

"Have you developed a hearing problem in the last few years man?"

"No. But guess I was just hoping you were going to be the one with enough balls to finally tell me something I could write about other than she was nice and upbeat."

"Well she was and I'm going talk. But understand, people, who work jobs like I do, don't go on the record. It leads to permanent unemployment."

Well crap, he thought, so much for a good interview. This story was rapidly deteriorating since so far everyone either wouldn't talk to him about anything important or like this guy wanted to talk off the record. And yeah, he knew if he was the one telling the story Joel was going to say that he was lying.

No his words wasn't enough, someone else had to say there were problems in their marriage other than him.

"Okay, it's crumbs but can I at least take notes?"

"No, use your brain to remember. You should understand that the only reason I'm talking to you at all is I remember you and you had a good rap. You were the type of man that several people I trust would be willing to stand good for you. And I remember you protected her, and I know that you'd treat her like she deserved if you wrote about her."

"You know I will."

"Plus, you understand that none of us take her lightly." The man's dark brown eyes found his as he said with steel in his voice, "And of course, you understand if you print one nasty word about Ms. Gem there will be repercussions."

"Feel that strongly do you?"

"Yeah, I do. Ms. Gem was a real sweetheart, who we all know was married to a real dickhead."

He found his eyes again before he said, "Now you knew that everyone of us knew what he was doing, and heaven help me, one of us should have done something. But how do you come between a man and his wife?"

"I agree that's hard and that wasn't any of our jobs." He pushed guilt down because he'd known.

They'd all known.

"Joel was whoring, drugging and gambling for a few things. He was also not taking care of the business side of her career. You know about the IRS?"

"Yeah, that and the other things, though you're the first to say he wasn't being faithful to her, even off the record."

"You know he was screwing around."

"I was her body guard. I stayed with her. I wasn't watching what he was doing."

"We all wondered if you were doing her?"

"What? There was never anything between the two of us."

"Right. We all saw the way you looked at her. The way she touched you, leaned on you and smiled at you."

"She smiled at everyone." He said dryly.

"Everyone but her husband. But then he was also knocking her around and never had a kind word for her."

He'd suspected as much but never voiced his concerns.

"Let's go back to the drugs. What was he doing? Coke?

"Yeah, but his favorite is smack."

"Smack?"

"Horse, china white, black tar, brown sugar. Depends on who talk to."

"Heroin?"

"Yeah, and he's a shooter."

"A shooter? Like needle shooter."

"Yeah, I hear he's still using. And I hear he's in major debt."

"Who to?"

"The Russian mafia. I've heard he's got a big debt. And maybe he's put her life insurance policy up as collateral for his drug habit."

"Life insurance?"

"Yeah, you know her voice was insured, not just her body. And I'm not talking chump change."

"Millions?"

"Try billions."

"Shit, that I didn't know."

The man's phone dinged and he checked it and said, "Look I've got to go."

Standing, he extended his hand and said, "Gerald, good to see you and maybe you should let this story go. Might not be healthy if you catch my meaning?"

"I'll keep that in mind. Good to see you."

They shook and the man gave him one more look with the words, "Be careful, Gerald, these aren't people that you screw with unless you're hunting a grave."

And he frowned, as the man turned and left the bar and he stood and left his beer sitting there.

#####GF#####

When he reached the parking lot, Gerald reached for his phone and thumbed his way to a number he hadn't called in a long time.

An old buddy he'd served time with in the sand named John Diggle.

"Gerry, it's been a long time."

"It's Gerald."

"Whatever. You're always going to be Gerry to me. Now go on and cut to the chase and tell me what you want this time?"

He barked a laugh, before he said, "Can't we at least pretend this is a social call."

Dig laughed his rich laugh then said, "When have you ever called me without wanting something? You don't do social, and we both know it."

Grinning, he said, "Play along. How's Lyla? She still a smoking hot bad ass who's putting up with your dumb ass, while she bosses you around?"

Dig's voice softened. "Yeah, she is. And before you ask, yes, my kid's growing like a weed. Is your sorry ass still single?"

"Guilty as charged. I just haven't found the right fit. And I'm not sure she's really out there."

"You could be right. Now that's out of the way. What do you want?"

"Can't bullshit you, Dig. Like normal, I'm looking into something."

"You're always looking into something, especially since you turned reporter. Man, that's what you do. So tell me about it."

He did.

"Sorry, know little to nothing about her. Saw the wreck on the news, talked about what a loss it was, like most people, but don't know anything about her. But I do know is the woman could sing. Darn shame and a loss."

"Word is that you keep company with someone who might be able to find her for me. A little blond cutie with a rich boyfriend? Maybe named Felicity."

"They're broke up right now. And it's tense since the two of them still love each other."

"So you don't think she could find someone that just stepped on the grid in the last couple of years."

"Yeah, maybe she could, she's special like that but you're fishing, Gerry, and you don't have any bait. Do you realize how many people you're talking here? People move off and on the grid all the time."

"I know there are probably several hundred, but I'll weed them out, and I've got a certain area in mind, so that will help narrow the search. And remember she's got to be early thirties, look like a certain person and probably was none existent before two years ago."

"As in she didn't exist?"

"Yeah, and I need someone who can get into the social security records and look at state licensing too. I need a picture."

"You're thinking she's changed her name? Got a new social? Maybe started a new life."

"Yes, and hopefully got a new license, with a picture. If she's alive, she's become someone else, either someone that died a long time ago or someone that never existed. We both know how that works."

"Which means someone helped her with new fake ID's."

"That's what I'm thinking."

"Man, if that's true, then she probably won't thank you if you do find her. Maybe you should let sleeping dogs lie."

"Dig, from what I've uncovered, life sucked for her. I'd say she hit that water and never looked back. But I can't let it lie. Lost her on my watch."

"Even more reason to leave her alone. It took guts for her to step off the grid. You need to think, man."

"Her sister wants me to find her. Guess her step mother and her sister is the only family the woman has. Except her asshole husband, of course."

"Yeah, but you're a reporter. And I'm not sure my friend would be excited to bust the woman out since your type reports. Plus reporters aren't her favorite people right now, since her ex is playing with a reporter. And she can lie all she wants, but she's not happy about sharing."

"You're right my type reports but this time I couldn't let it go. I'm working another angle. Remember she disappeared on my watch. This is personal, Dig."

Dig sighed and gave his silence before he said, "Okay, I'll asked my friend and get back to you when and if I know something."

"Hey and do think your friend could find out what kind of life insurance policies she had and the beneficiaries?"

"You thinking maybe she faked her death for the money?"

"Just looking at all the angles. And stranger things have happened. Plus there is talk of the Russian mafia."

"The Russian mafia. Bratva?"

"Yeah, Bratva."

"Okay, I'll ask Oliver to look into things too. He has connections. Gerry, I'll get back to you in a couple days. But you need to be careful. And I mean really careful."

"Thanks, bro."

"Not a problem I'm looking out for you."

And he pressed end, then climbed in his car.

Biting his lip, he pulled out and said, out loud "Shit, I've got a tail."

Whipping the steering wheel, he turned left and then right and hit the freeway and put his foot into it, intend on losing them.

But his mind wondered.

#####GF#####

And no one but one person has reviewed. Be the one to talk to me, but as always, thanks for the read. And I'm pretty happy with the way this one is working out, talk to me or not.

mputer and typed in her name.

Bracing himself, he clicked images and searched through the millions of picture hits that came back.

Pictures of Joel and her on the red carpet flooded his screen. He saw award pictures, and fan pictures, literally millions of fan pictures.

Scenes of the wreck came next and he pasted on the pictures of the wreck, changing over to search.

No the wreck was too painful.

How had he missed the fact that Joel was going to killed her?

So he watched.

And he'd been there and didn't need to rehash or revisit the crash scene ever again.

No he couldn't stand it, and he'd closed the page.

Yes, instead, he changed tactics and hunted her school yearbook.

It'd taken a while but he'd finally found her senior picture, back when she'd wore thick glasses and she'd had long dark hair.

It looked nothing like Gem Fire.

And he copied her picture and then took a picture with his phone.

With care, he started making phone calls. He started making contact with people who'd worked with her in the industry.

Joel, her husband refused to speak to him at all, and he couldn't get past the gates of his mansion to speak with the man in person.

But him breaking Joel's nose the night she'd disappeared might have something to do with that decision.

Her past publicist gave him lip service.

"Yes, her death was a tragedy for the music business and there have been no further clues as to what happened to Gem Fire."

Hitting dead end after dead end, it was hard not get frustrated.

He managed to talk to her Glen her hair stylist and the woman teared up talking about how nice the woman had been.

But then he'd known that since he'd worked beside himself for two years.

Several members of her band were willing to talk to him on the phone. All of them said she was awesome to play with and was a hard worker. And none of them admitted to knowing a thing about her personal life.

It was frustrating as all get out especially since he knew they were lying to him.

He'd been there and knew there had been trouble in paradise.

Yet, it was the business and you kept your mouth shut if you wanted to work in the business.

Finally, he managed to schedule a meeting with a roadie who'd worked over five years for her and was willing to talk to him.

Logan Mitchell had the look of a solider, solid build with muscles and sported a six pack. But then the man moved heavy equipment for a living. He set up and torn down the stages and packed the semi so they could roll to another town and do it all away.

Yet, he moved with a certain grace as he slid into the booth at the bar they were meeting in.

He extended his hand and said, "Logan, it's been a long time. Good to see you."

"Gerald, how the hell are you? Been years now."

And the two men shook hands, each testing the other and he didn't find the large man lacking as the man solidly gripped his hand.

"Can I record this?" He reached for his phone.

"No."

"No? You agreed to meet and I can't record it."

"Yeah, I said no. Sorry, I should have warned you but I'm only going to talk off the record."

"Off the record?"

"Have you developed a hearing problem in the last few years man?"

"No. But guess I was just hoping you were going to be the one with enough balls to finally tell me something I could write about other than she was nice and upbeat."

"Well she was and I'm going talk. But understand, people, who work jobs like I do, don't go on the record. It leads to permanent unemployment."

Well crap, he thought, so much for a good interview. This story was rapidly deteriorating since so far everyone either wouldn't talk to him about anything important or like this guy wanted to talk off the record. And yeah, he knew if he was the one telling the story Joel was going to say that he was lying.

No his words wasn't enough, someone else had to say there were problems in their marriage other than him.

"Okay, it's crumbs but can I at least take notes?"

"No, use your brain to remember. You should understand that the only reason I'm talking to you at all is I remember you and you had a good rap. You were the type of man that several people I trust would be willing to stand good for you. And I remember you protected her, and I know that you'd treat her like she deserved if you wrote about her."

"You know I will."

"Plus, you understand that none of us take her lightly." The man's dark brown eyes found his as he said with steel in his voice, "And of course, you understand if you print one nasty word about Ms. Gem there will be repercussions."

"Feel that strongly do you?"

"Yeah, I do. Ms. Gem was a real sweetheart, who we all know was married to a real dickhead."

He found his eyes before he said, "Now you knew that everyone of us knew what he was doing and heaven help me, one of us should have done something. But how do you come between a man and his wife?"

"I agree that's hard and that wasn't any of our jobs." He pushed guilt down because he'd known.

They'd all known.

"Joel was whoring, drugging and gambling for a few things. He was also not taking care of the business side of her career. You know about the IRS?"

"Yeah, that and the other things, though you're the first to say he wasn't being faithful to her, even off the record."

"You know he was screwing around."

"I was her body guard. I stayed with her. I wasn't watching what he was doing."

"We all wondered if you were doing her?"

"What? There was never anything between the two of us."

"Right. We all saw the way you looked at her. The way she touched you, leaned on you and smiled at you."

"She smiled at everyone." He said dryly.

"Everyone but her husband. But then he was also knocking her around and never had a kind word for her."

He'd suspected as much but never voiced his concerns.

"Let's go back to the drugs. What was he doing? Coke?

"Yeah, but his favorite is smack."

"Smack?"

"Horse, china white, black tar, brown sugar. Depends on who talk to."

"Heroin?"

"Yeah, and he's a shooter."

"A shooter? Like needle shooter."

"Yeah, I hear he's still using. And I hear he's in major debt."

"Who to?"

"The Russian mafia. I've heard he's got a big debt. And maybe he's put her life insurance policy up as collateral for his drug habit."

"Life insurance?"

"Yeah, you know her voice was insured, not just her body. And I'm not talking chump change."

"Millions?"

"Try billions."

"Shit, that I didn't know."

The man's phone dinged and he checked it and said, "Look I've got to go."

Standing, he extended his hand and said, "Gerald, good to see you and maybe you should let this story go. Might not be healthy if you catch my meaning?"

"I'll keep that in mind. Good to see you."

They shook and the man gave him one more look with the words, "Be careful, Gerald, these aren't people that you screw with unless you're hunting a grave."

And he frowned, as the man turned and left the bar and he stood and left his beer sitting there.

#####GF#####

When he reached the parking lot, Gerald reached for his phone and thumbed his way to a number he hadn't called in a long time.

An old buddy he'd served time with in the sand named John Diggle.

"Gerry, it's been a long time."

"It's Gerald."

"Whatever. You're always going to be Gerry to me. Now go on and cut to the chase and tell me what you want this time?"

He barked a laugh, before he said, "Can't we at least pretend this is a social call."

Dig laughed his rich laugh then said, "When have you ever called me without wanting something? You don't do social, and we both know it."

Grinning, he said, "Play along. How's Lyla? She still a smoking hot bad ass who's putting up with your dumb ass, while she bosses you around?"

Dig's voice softened. "Yeah, she is. And before you ask, yes, my kid's growing like a weed. Is your sorry ass still single?"

"Guilty as charged. I just haven't found the right fit. And I'm not sure she's really out there."

"You could be right. Now that's out of the way. What do you want?"

"Can't bullshit you, Dig. Like normal, I'm looking into something."

"You're always looking into something, especially since you turned reporter. Man, that's what you do. So tell me about it."

He did.

"Sorry, know little to nothing about her. Saw the wreck on the news, talked about what a loss it was, like most people but don't know anything about her. But I do know is the woman could sing. Darn shame and a loss."

"Word is that you keep company with someone who might be able to find her for me. A little blond cutie with a rich boyfriend? Maybe named Felicity."

"They're broke up right now. And it's tense since the two of them still love each other."

"So you don't think she could find someone that just stepped on the grid in the last couple of years."

"Yeah, maybe she could, she's special like that but you're fishing, Gerry, and you don't have any bait. Do you realize how many people you're talking here? People move off and on the grid all the time."

"I know there are probably several hundred, but I'll weed them out, and I've got a certain area in mind, so that will help narrow the search. And remember she's got to be early thirties, look like a certain person and probably was none existent before two years ago."

"As in she didn't exist?"

"Yeah, and I need someone who can get into the social security records and look at state licensing too. I need a picture."

"You're thinking she's changed her name? Got a new social? Maybe started a new life."

"Yes, and hopefully got a new license, with a picture. If she's alive, she's become someone else, either someone that died a long time ago or someone that never existed. We both know how that works."

"Which means someone helped her with new fake ID's."

"That's what I'm thinking."

"Man, if that's true, then she probably won't thank you if you do find her. Maybe you should let sleeping dogs lie."

"Dig, from what I've uncovered, life sucked for her. I'd say she hit that water and never looked back. But I can't let it lie. Lost her on my watch."

"Even more reason to leave her alone. It took guts for her to step off the grid. You need to think, man."

"Her sister wants me to find her. Guess her step mother and her sister is the only family the woman has. Except her asshole husband, of course."

"Yeah, but you're a reporter. And I'm not sure my friend would be excited to bust the woman out since your type reports. Plus reporters aren't her favorite people right now, since her ex is playing with a reporter. And she can lie all she wants, but she's not happy about sharing."

"You're right my type reports but this time I couldn't let it go. I'm working another angle. Remember she disappeared on my watch. This is personal, Dig."

Dig sighed and gave his silence before he said, "Okay, I'll asked my friend and get back to you when and if I know something."

"Hey and do think your friend could find out what kind of life insurance policies she had and the beneficiaries?"

"You thinking maybe she faked her death for the money?"

"Just looking at all the angles. And stranger things have happened. Plus there is talk of the Russian mafia."

"The Russian mafia. Bratva?"

"Yeah, Bratva."

"Okay, I'll ask Oliver to look into things too. He has connections. Gerry, I'll get back to you in a couple days. But you need to be careful. And I mean really careful."

"Thanks, bro."

"Not a problem I'm looking out for you."

And he pressed end, then climbed in his car.

Biting his lip, he pulled out and said, out loud "Shit, I've got a tail."

Whipping the steering wheel, he turned left and then right and hit the freeway and put his foot into it, intend on losing them.

But his mind wondered.

#####GF#####

And no one but one person has reviewed. Be the one to talk to me, but as always, thanks for the read. And I'm pretty happy with the way this one is working out, talk to me or not.


	11. Chapter 11

The door was ajar.

Going into commando mode, he pulled his Glock from the holster under his left arm.

" Well shit."

Someone'd tossed his office.

Damn, his laptop was gone.

His desk was overturned and paper lay everywhere.

He hadn't known he owned enough paper to cover the floor.

Hell, he didn't even own a printer.

His phone buzzed, and Dig's face came on the screen.

Swiping his phone, he put it to his ear.

" Hey, Dig. I'm thinking you're going to tell me something good."

" Unbelievable good."

" Dig, I'm standing in my trashed office and it's looking like I've not only had bait but I've gotten someone's attention."

" You call the cops?"

" I considered it but what good would it do? I'd bet it's clean. And I'm missing my laptop already."

" I hear you. Two hours?"

" Yeah," he said, knowing both of them knew the place.

#######

He'd gone early, the long way around making sure he didn't have a tail.

It was a dark bar, a place that Dig and he had drinks at after they'd returned state side.

Dig arrived exactly on time and slid into the booth.

" You been working out since last I saw you."

It wasn't a question.

Dig had put on a large amount of muscle since he'd seen him last.

" Yeah, you could say I have." The man said as he crossed him massive arms in from of his enormous chest. "You not as much."

He refused the grin before he said, "Talk to me."

" Man, you not just got a hit but a perfect match. I'm still not believing it, but since my friend wrote the face recognition software, I have no choice but to believe it. Her name is."

He held up his hand and slide a piece of paper over to Dig with the words, "Write it down. You never know who's listening."

Dig scribbled and then pushed the paper back at him and he read her name.

" Thanks, what do I owe you?"

" Marker."

" Fine. Whatever, whenever, you need. Just let me know. Anything on the life insurance policies?"

" She's still working on that."

" Word is the husband owes the Russian Bravta and has put her policy up."

Dig's eyebrows went up.

" I'll talk to Oliver. He has connections."

" Thanks. Guess I'm taking a trip."

" Be safe."

" You too."

And both of them stood and shook hands.

#####GF#####

He watched the kite in the sky.

He'd been running the park thinking that today he would make contact with her, and he'd noted the huge blue kite. It looked like a dolphin with a multi-colored tail that made the entire kite about fifteen foot long.

Okay, even he thought it was very cool.

Somehow, the kite made him smile and think back to when he was young, back to when his Grandfather had shown him how to take a black plastic trash bag and cut cane poles, and his old t-shirt cut up to a tail to make a kite.

He couldn't help it, the kite made him smile, and he ran closer, wondering who was really flying a kite in this day and age.

Then the air froze in his lungs.

It was her.

A very alive woman, who was supposed to be very dead.

And she was past lovely.

He'd always thought she was hot. For two years he’d liked looking at her.

But she’d been married.

Yet, that hadn’t stopped him from looking, just from acting.

Plus now for almost three years, if he’d admit it, he’d missed looking at her, missed being in her atmosphere. He’d truly believed she’d been dead and had refused to hope.

He felt his heart in his chest.

Yes, there she stood.

Flying a kite.

Yeah, flying a damn kite, with the wind pulling hard on the kite string in her small hands.

His eyes swept her very much alive and breathing form, as she smiled up at an enormous blue kite.

The blonde hair was gone replaced by a short dark bob.

He remembered she’d worn contacts as he noted her sensible framed eye glasses. Yet, he noted she had glasses that turned to dark sunglasses from the sun, as she stood in the park, wearing a large purple and pink floppy hat, cut off shorts and a dye dyed t-shirt and controlling the large kite.

The carefully dressed star was gone but she was still past hot.

Okay, he'd might have had a thing for her for a while.

And as she stood in the park as she controlled the kite, his gut tightened as he realized that he still had a thing for her, that if anything, he liked this look better than the stage one.

Running forward and pulling back, she made the kite do a loop de loop, and she grinned as she let out more string.

His smile filled his face and he looked her body up and down and took in how happy she looked, took in that the circles under her eyes were gone, and took in that she looked years younger than the last time he’d seen here.

Out loud, he said, "I see you. Oh, how I see you."

And he flipped his hoodie up so she wouldn't recognize him as he ran closer.

He could tell that for that instant she was having fun and her smile was easy.

And he thought, she's a true beauty now.

Unexpectedly, he had one of those boyhood moments, where his dick thought about getting hard, and he pushed sexual rush down for he was too old for that.

But yeah, today she was having fun and her smile easy and it warmed him inside. Since it was something he’d never seen her do before. No, the woman he’d protected was always tired, always pushing herself and always hid behind a carefully controlled mask. 

She smiled but it was for the masses, and it was a fake smile.

Now she smiled just because she was happy.

It was nice and bottomed out his stomach.

He knew she'd forgotten all the bad, had finally forgotten Joel's hard hands, and forgotten all the terrible times from her other life.

And he thought, wow was she a beauty or what?

Then his stomach clinched as he wondered if he truly wanted to ruin her life.

Somehow, she must have known he was there, since she turned and saw him and her smile fell and worry replaced it on her face.

Instantly, he felt bad that he'd intruded on her happy moment.

As, he watched she started walking backward away from him, while swiftly winding the kite in.

Turning, he ran the other direction, away from her, not liking that her smile had disappeared and he was the cause. 

And he wondered if he could really take this new life from her?

#####

Sliding into a bar stool, he pulled the ballcap down and tried not to scratch his four day old beard. He’d always been clean shaven so the beard was somewhat of a cover. He’d picked a seat where he could see the window that she appeared in and put the plates of food and he was close enough he could somewhat hear what was going on in the kitchen.

A large older woman stepped up and handed him a menu and asked, “Coffee?”

He nodded and said, “Thanks, what’s good.”

“Everything Hope cooks, especially her biscuits.”

Glancing at the menu, he said, “Okay, steak and eggs with biscuits.”

“You want county gravy?”

“No, thanks.”

“How you want your eggs?”

“Over medium.”

“Steak?”

“Done.”

“Burnt?”

“No just done. No blood. And not dried out. No jerky.”

“Got it.”

And he smiled as he watched her submit his order. 

Gem, rather BJ or now he guessed it was Hope, snatched his order off the counter. He swore this woman suddenly had too many names, if she was really Gem Fire. 

His brain still wanted to believe this was a mistake. Gem was dead and this woman wasn’t her. 

Yet, he couldn’t shake the thought that Dig’s friend was good. And if this was Gem, he had just found the story of a lifetime. It would solidify his career, keep him on top.

And maybe completely ruin her life.

Frowning, he then thought but that if it really was her then he was subjecting her to the spotlight again. Something she, if it was her, had clearly turned her back on, unless she had experienced a head injury and forgotten who she was. 

Not that seemed likely. 

This was getting more and more complicated. 

As in she had built an entire new life to escape. Busting her out to the world again, might not be the best way to win points with her.

Damn whatever her name was, as he watched her work and joke with her coworkers, he thought that she was cute. 

His meal arrived and the waitress was right. 

The woman, regardless of her name, could cook.

#####GF#####

He watched her drive away in her 90 something four cylinder Chevy.

It still seemed wrong. This couldn't be Gem Fire. She was working as a cook in a local diner and living in a small rent to own house.

So what if Dig’s friend said it was her?

Okay, she had suddenly just appeared here out of nowhere just a little over two years ago not many miles from where she had went into the water.

Okay, every one that would talk, and the town folk were protecting her, and all of them would hardly talk but yes, she had come in through the Battered Women's Shelter.

Okay, he was breaking and entering. And yes, he had done it before.

Carefully, he picked the lock.

He slowly shut the door and eyed what was her home.

Shells, rocks, and one chair was all that graced her kitchen.

One single chair spoke volumes.

So she wasn’t the dinner party kind of person.

His eyes took inventory as he opened cabinets in the small kitchen.

A few stables, some cereal, canned food and spices graced the shelves. But in reality, she owned very few possessions, and very few dishes.

Turning, he checked out the living room.

A twelve string guitar graced her living room and a desk with a tablet that had music written on it.

Of course, the guitar was an Ovation. Point taken since he knew Gem had a thing for Ovations. 

It seemed that a leopard never changes its spots.

She didn't own a TV but a laptop was plugged in at the desk.

Carefully, he opened the computer, and found she’d password protected it, so he shut the computer's lid.

He wasn't going to raise her suspicions by repeated log on attempts.

Frowning, he entered what must be her bedroom. The bed was a full and was simply adorned with a handmade quilt. 

No picture adorned the walls.

Yet, her scent lay sweet in the air here. Something subtle but pleasant assaulted his senses. Something that he found he wanted to taste, to savor on her skin.

God, what was it about this woman that made him hard just thinking about her.

How could she turn him on, and she wasn't even here?

Talk about feeling stupid but that made him wonder how could Joel treat her like he did?

And how could he have let it happen for so long.

He’d been there and he’d known.

Yeah, he’d heard Joel complain about the way she'd played.

He’d heard the way Joel’d belittled her.

Joel was unhappy with the way she'd moved and danced.

Plainly, Joel had been unhappy.

Well plainly, he was unhappy with Joel, back then and now too.

Digging, he found Joel’s gambling problems, and the truth about the drugs Joel was using. Seemed the man also was a player and had stepped out on her with young things that hung around back stage.

No wonder she'd faked her death and hid.

He opened her closet and noted how clean it was. Only a few clothes hung in the closet. 

She owned no clutter.

A single backpack sat on the floor.

Dragging the backpack out, he unzipped the front pocket and found five one hundred dollar bills, a pre-paid visa, and what was probably a burner phone.

Unzipping the next pocket, he found a 25 automatic with six bullets and one in the chamber.

Okay, she was serious.

Unzipping the next pocket, he found clothes.

Okay, she was prepared to run.

This woman was scared.

She was really scared and really prepared.

Her place held little to nothing.

It had been over two years and she still was ready to run.

What had Joel, her husband, done to her that he didn’t know?

A few seconds later, the hard barrow of a gun pressed solidly against his temple.

"I suggest you be still, or I'll blow your brains out. What do you want?"

"You're sister thinks you're alive, Gem and so do I."

She inhaled sharply.

" Shit, Gerald," she said.

"You're past busted, Gem."

"I don't have a sister. And don’t call me that."

Her face paled.

"You messed up by sending her those songs. If you wanted to stay dead then you should have never sent her that music."

Again, she inhaled sharply and he used the instant to knock the barrow of the gun away from his head.

And she shot the closet door before he managed to restrain her with the words, "If you plan to shoot someone then you need to aim right behind the ear."

Slumping, she collapsed in his arms before her foot stomped his. Quickly, she elbowed him in the gut and then she amazingly managed to flip him over her shoulder and slammed him to the hard wooden floor, knocking the air from his lungs.

"Damn, you're good," he said as he rolled as she shot a hole in the wooden floor where he'd just been.

"I'm DEAD. And I want to stay that way. So d on't call me that. Gem’s dead."

"Whatever. You're busted. And stop shooting at me."

He grinned up at her and he jumped lightly to his feet.

His eyes met her eyes and his chest tightened, as she truly smiled before she said, “Gerald, what are you going to do about it? Personally, I want to stay dead.”

"Chill, woman. I'm not here to hurt you."

Taking a step back, she said, "I'm giving you ten seconds to start explaining, or I'm taking your knee out and then I'm calling the cops."

He froze and gave her a hard look.

"We both know you don't want the cops involved in this."

"There is no this. This is you breaking and entering and headed to jail."

"Have you gotten to be a hard ass or what? What happened to the girl next door?"

"News flash she died. Drown last I heard."

She raised the pistol, and he raised his hands, with the words, "Easy, take it easy. I need you to calm down. I'm not here to hurt you or expose you. I just want to talk."

"Then get to talking. I know you’re a reporter now. Traitor, next I’ll find out your Paparazzi. I really should blowout your knee. "

Leveling the gun at his knee again, he realized a red dot had appeared on her white t-shirt right above her heart.

"Sniper," the single word, ripped out of his mouth.

Things had just gone south, seriously way south.

#####GF#####


	12. Chapter 12

#####GF#####

His brain was having major problems processing as to why someone would be shooting at her or him but that didn't stop him from moving.

Diving, he knocked her off her feet and rolled them across the floor as the room exploded in silent gunfire. 

In rapid succession bullets that made a whishing sound tore through her bed covers, shattered the mirror on her dresser and swept the room in quick succession, exploding wood chips, burrowing into the drywall and barely missing them as he rolled them over and over.

"Damn you!" She screamed. "Let me go."

Managing to slam her head into his nose, making him groan, she wrenched away and hit her feet, snatching up the backpack and moving.

The sound of glass shattering in the front room meant that the shooter had changed positions, and told him that she was the target, not him.

Damn somehow he’d been played and led whoever wanted to kill her straight to her.

"Woman, you're going to get yourself killed." He roared as he pulled the Glock from his shoulder harness under his jacket and followed, staying low.

The front room exploded in a rain of gunfire. Holes drilled into the drywall as glass shattered. 

The volley of hot lead devastated the home she’d created in nothing flat as the gunfire destroyed what little bit she owned.

Her guitar twanged as it toppled from the stand, shot into pieces. The computer screen on her laptop cracked and popped as a bullet struck it, and glass from broken windows rained through the air.

Crouching by the doorway, using the wall for cover, he heard the back door shut.

"Damn, it. Little fool." 

The shooter must have heard it too, as the bullets instantly stopped destroying the room.

He moved knowing the shooter would be changing positions, since you didn't blow a house to hell if you didn't intend on finishing the job.

Staying low, he moved before he lost her. Quietly, he exited the small house, hoping she'd had sense enough not to run out in the open.

Once again, she surprised him as he found her crouched at the corner of the porch. She quickly turned and pointed her gun straight at his head but didn't shoot him, though both of them had their weapons trained on the other.

He lowered his gun first and put a finger to his lips, and she nodded sharply as the sound of a board creaking rent the air.

Her eyes went wide and he knew someone was on the porch and headed their way.

Gesturing for her to come, he sighed deeply as she shook her head. Insistent now, he pointed sharply at her then pointed behind him.

She frowned but then the creaking boards got closer and she moved stepping quietly toward him. Yet there was no time to feel good about accomplishing the fact he’d gotten her to move and get her behind him just as he saw the shadow and knew the gunman was about to round the corner of the porch.

Stepping to the side to open up his hips, he brought his knee up, turned swiftly and snapped his leg out, striking the man in the face with his boot just as he rounded the corner. 

His boot slammed the man's head back hard against the house. Wasting no time, he hit his feet then disarmed the man, knocking the semi-automatic weapon out of his hand and then repeatedly banging the stunned man's head against the wall until he quit moving and then lay prone on the porch where he threw him.

From the corner of his eye, he knew the instant she turned tail and ran.

Vaulting the porch's railing, he took off after her and tackled her to the ground, and she fought him tooth and nail, both biting and scratching him until he restrained her hands.

"Stop fighting me, damn it. There could be more than one of them."

"You could be one of them." She almost managed to knee him in the crotch but he blocked her.

"Think. If I'd wanted you dead, I wouldn't have moved you when I saw the sniper’s bead. Besides, I've been watching you for over a week. If I'd have wanted you dead, I'd have picked you off at the park flying your dolphin kite and drowned you in the river. It’d be much easier to explain than the fool that just turned your house into a shooting gallery."

The fight went out of her and like a balloon, she deflated.

"Get off me.”

"Do you promise not to run?"

"I promise." But she looked down.

"Is your word any good?"

"Oh course, it is. Get off me."

"Don't lie to me." But he swallowed hard as he realized that she truly smelled good.

He found her eyes and she wouldn't meet his glaze.

"Thought so. I'm totally cuffing you to me."

Standing, he hauled her to her feet, while keeping a good hold on her wrist so she couldn't run.

"You are not." She jerked her hand away from him but he held on.

"No you don't. You're going to run. Got your bugout pack on and as soon as you have a chance, you're running and that's not happening. I’ve got too much invested in finding you to let you just disappear. You’ve with me now."

Reaching in his jacket pocket, he quickly snapped the handcuff to her left wrist, then snapped the other one to his leather belt as she said, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Let me go right NOW!”

“Can’t. Now come on, I’d like to ask your hitman a couple of questions. And I’m not chasing you again today.” He grabbed her hand with his and tugged on her.

She dug in her heels and he said, “I don’t have time for this,” as he reached and picked her up and threw her bodily over his shoulder.

“Put me down. I’ll walk. Just put me down.” She pounded on his back. “Stop with the caveman routine.”

Carrying her up the steps, he rounded the corner to find the porch empty. 

“Damn it.” He sat her on her feet and jerked her back against the wall, waiting for the bullets to start flying again. 

Pushing her into the house, he kept them low.

“What the hell is going on? That jerk shot my house up. Jeez, look at my poor guitar. Do you know how hard it is to find a Glen Campbell Ovation? They don’t grow on trees you know?”

“No can’t say that I do. Look, we’ve got to move. Anything you want to take with you?”

“My music.” She moved toward her desk, only to slam to a halt because he didn’t move with her. 

He moved with the words, “Well it seems that somehow I somehow led this hitman straight to you."

"Hitman?"

She whitened.

"Yeah, I was distracted and somehow I missed that I had a tail. Completely unacceptable. Totally your fault though."

"My fault," she stopped and he slammed her body against him. Crashing her soft body against his hard chest, he inhaled sharply as he savored the feel of her body against his.

“That seems more like your fault, than mine. I wasn’t hunting you.”

Something inside him clicked, settled deep within him and he said, “Yeah, you could be right there.”

Damn. It looked like he really did have a thing for her still. 

What the heck was it about the way this woman smelled that completely turned him on?

Was this what he'd been missing all this time?

This was crazy, but she fit his arms and he felt her tremble, like she felt whatever was going on between them too.

He allowed the small grin as he said, "You've tried to shoot me not just once but twice and now you're glaring at me like you want to try it for the third time. Keep that up, woman, and I'm going take you hard against a wall."

She whitened. "You did not just tell me that. And you wouldn't dare."

His hands roamed and cupped her ass as he caught the lobe of her ear and sucked, releasing it with pop, as he whispered, "Yeah, I did tell you that and, yeah, I would. You don't know me but I really would. You've been messing with my thought process for years now, and I'm about over it. But it’s a damn shame I don’t have time right now. Come on let’s get that book and get the hell out of here."

"I have not."

She leaned in and he discovered it was hard to breathe as she exhaled.

Unable to help himself, he thrust against her as he assured her, "Just wait, Gem, I'm going to have you. You know that don't you?"

Ducking her head, she insisted, "No, you're not. I’m a married woman. And don’t call me that. My name is Hope now."

"Okay, Hope, from where I’m standing, you’ve been, what looks like willingly, off the grid for almost three years. I see that as legally separated, just about damn near single, so believe me, I’d stop pushing me unless you want to make a point.”

“How?”

He looked at her lips and smiled and raised an eyebrow and said, “Now are you ready? Since your best bet to stay alive is to go willingly with me and let my people help you.”

Her mouth snapped shut and she pushed away from him and grabbed her notebook with the words, “I’m ready.”

“Where’s your car?”

“Up the road a piece.”

“Lead the way.”

She licked her lips and he had problems controlling himself.

Since he wanted her now and here, which was just stupid considering that they were standing in her house that had been shot to hell and he had her handcuffed to his belt.

And he normally controlled everything, especially sexual urges but for some reason he was having a problem dealing. Suppressing a groan, he headed them carefully out of the house as his phone rang.

Pulling it out of his jacket, he saw Dig’s face. 

“Hey, Dig.”

“Gerald, got news. Looks like Felicity’s intel was right on as usual. There’s a hit out on the name I gave you. So you need to expect possible incoming fire.”

“Thanks, Dig, since I was just in her house that is now shot the shit up. That would have been more of a head’s up about thirty minutes ago.”

“Well damn.”

“Get me the name of the buyer, now that’d be a real help.”

“I’ll get my girl on it.”

“What?” She said, as he hung up the phone.

Moving, he threw the words over his shoulder, “Someone’s paying to kill you.”

“Well, shit.” She said, “Like we didn’t already know that. If this is the way you and your people help me, I don’t have a snowballs chance in hell of coming out of this alive.”

#####GF#####


	13. Chapter 13

Luckily the trip to the car was uneventful, other than he was moving fast enough to keep pulling on her arm. Running wasn't her thing. Therefore, her heart was pounding by the time they reached her Chevy and her brain was spinning.

Gerald opened the driver's door of her car and demanded, "Give me the keys and climb in."

"If you unlock me." She held up her arm.

Now seemed like as good of time as any to do this.

"Not happening. Now move."

Trying to cross her arms in front of her chest, she found out the cuff wouldn't reach so instead she pointed her finger at him, narrowed her eyes, and said, "And just think I used to like you, Gerald."

Jerking the cuff, she pulled against his belt with the words, "Unlock me right now."

"Not happening. Climb in."

"When pigs fly."

The nerve of the man, she thought.

His handsome face glared down at her before he said, "You do realize you have a target on your back right now and you're standing in the open arguing with me about who's going to drive?"

The color drained from her face and her stomach knotted.

Okay, he could be right but she forged forward.

"What the hell's going on, Gerald? I've not had a single problem with anyone brothering me for almost three years and you appear and now someone's shooting my house up. Destroying my guitar no less."

"Gem, get in the car."

But she was on a roll.

"No. Not until you explain what the hell is going on. Okay, Joel was mean to me at times, and he threatened certain things but none of them were killing me."

"Well that wasn't Joel I just kicked in the face and knocked unconscious. No that man was a contract killer."

"I don't want to hear that."

"Didn't ask if you did. And what things did Joel threaten? It that why you've been hiding? Did Joel threaten you?"

She realized that he said the words "contract killer" very matter of fact and her stomach bottomed out as she promptly ignored everything else he'd said.

"So what you're saying is that Joel's not trying killing me, but he's hired someone to murder me and somehow you've led them straight to me? Do I have it right so far?"

"I never said it was Joel. Nor am I'm sure I led them to you."

"No one shot my house before you showed up."

"Quiet." He demanded.

The sound of a motor cranking in the distance filled the air.

"Move, Gem, that's probably our friend."

"Stop calling me that. My name's Hope." She chested him and he gave a small grin as she looked up at him, with the words, "Gem drowned in that car, trust me."

"Then move, Hope, that car's getting closer. Oh, hell, never mind."

Lifting her bodily, she found herself tossed lightly into the passage side of the car as he said, "Give me the damn keys to the car, Hope."

The sound of the motor was getting closer, closing in on them, and she pulled them from her pocket and slammed them in his hand with the words, "Here take them but it's not going to do you any good. Alice isn't going to start."

"Alice?"

He inserted the key and turned it and the engine sputtered but didn't turn over.

"Did I mention that Alice rolled to a stop? Why do you think I came back to the house?"

"Alice?" He asked again.

"Yeah, Alice."

He blinked and asked, "You named your car Alice?"

"Yeah."

A strange look came over his face. "Let me guess Alice Cooper?"

He turned the key again and she said, "You're going to kill the battery if you keep doing that. And Alice is just probably just out of gas."

"Doesn't your guage worked because it says E."

"I know and trust me E doesn't mean enough. But I do that sometimes."

"What?" His eyes found hers and she noted his eyes was chocolate brown, but she'd noted his eyes in the past and she tore her eyes away from him.

"I forget to look at the gauge. Jim keeps telling me that I need to pay more attention to things like that but I get wrapped up in my head sometimes."

"Really, I'd have never guessed. Well shit! You could have mentioned that your car was broke down  five minutes ago. We could have taken mine. Well at least I know why you came back to the house now."

"Yeah, I walked back to get my phone that I'd left on the counter when I realized someone was in the house."

"You're telling me you can ninja up on me in your house, but you don't remember to put gas in your car?"

"Yeah, or remember to carry my phone most of the time."

"Did you get the phone? Maybe right now would be a good time to call those cops after all."

She bit her lip and shook her head and he frowned deeply at her.

And she returned with the words, "Well we all have our strengths and weaknesses. I do have a burner in the backpack though."

She could tell he was far from happy as a groan escaped his mouth, and he rubbed the back of his neck, and she realized that the car motor was almost on top of them now.

"Get down," he said as he pushed her over in the seat, lying on top of her, smashing her against the seat with his solid body.

"Get off me."

"Shut up, Hope. I don't feel like dying today. And remember I kicked this guy in the face. He'll probably not mind doing me for free right now."

She inhaled sharply thinking it was crazy that someone would want to kill them both just as she noticed how nice his body felt pressed against her. Unbidden, she felt heat hit her with a hot flash that warmed her girl parts, and she realized she'd missed having a man this close to her. And maybe not just any man but this man.

That made her swallow hard and she pushed that thought violently away.

But then he shoved her hard into the floorboard, mashing her handcuffed hand as he moved and she landed hard on her hip.

Needless to say, she yelped.

His hand immediately pulled her smashed hand out from under him then clapped his hand over her mouth as he pulled his gun, thumbed off the safety, and pointed the Glock toward the passenger window as the motor came to a stop beside her car.

The whoosh of the power window lowering made her heart race, and she held her breath as she reached for her 25 automatic tucked into her belt. Thumbing off the safety, she tapped his hand with her gun and gave him a nod.

His eyes crinkled in the corners, and she moved her cuffed hand to brace the small weapon with both hands.

The sound of a gunshot from a distance cracked the air as the car fell forward and a loud hiss broke the air. Unable to help herself, she squeezed her eyes shut for an instant as another small pop filled the air and the car jumped again, falling to the ground and another hiss met her ears.

Heart pounding, instantly furious, she sighted the gun in her hand at the passenger window, and waited for the man who'd just shot Alice to come into range.

The motor idled long seconds and she had terrible through of a bullet ripping though her, ripping through him, and Gerard and her both dying lying in the front seat of her car.

And she didn't want to die right now. She also didn't want to be found out.

No, she wasn't ready.

So she narrowed her eyes and focused, hoping the man would step close to the car. She wasn't sure she could truly kill but she was about to find out.

Shoot her Ovation up and now Alice too.

How dare he?

The man deserved to be shot.

This was that kill or be kill moment that Jim had constantly talked about.

The reason he'd taught her to shoot, the reason she'd learned to fight, and the reason she wasn't messing this up.

But then the car reversed and turned around and drove back toward her house.

Her heart pounded, knowing he was still hunting her, still hunting them. She looked at Gerald, and he looked at her and mouthed the single word, "Wait."

Exhaling, she waited as the silence lengthen, waited until the bugs buzzed again, waited for the birds to call, and waited for the sound of that engine to get further away.

Finally, she replaced the safety on the gun and as she said, "Just my luck, I'm pretty sure Jerry doesn't fix bullet holes in tires. What a jerk, doesn't he realize what tires cost?"

"Don't think he cares." Gerald clicked his safety with his thumb. "And who's Jerry?"

"My mechanic in town. Alice and him are old friends and he totes the note."

The look on his face was priceless.

"Totes the note?"

"Can we get up now? I'm kind of cramped down here. And yeah, I owe him money. Alice had to have a new radiator not long ago. Jerry's a nice guy."

He sat up and then reached and pulled her out of the floorboard with the words, "I'll just bet he is. Has he asked you out yet?"

She worried her bottom lip and then said, "Well maybe a couple of times. But everyone knows I don't date."

Darn, that wasn't information she wanted him to know.

Reporter, she told herself as she added the words, "That's off the record. I want you to understand that I'll sue you if you write about anything I say."

"Good luck with that."

She glared at  him and said, "Off the record."

He didn't say anything as he opened the car door and climbed out. The cuff on her wrist tugged on her arm and unable to help herself she followed him.

"Gerald. I mean it." 

She planted her feet and he said, "I think we we should hope that he's not found my car yet."

"Total waste of time. And you will not print one word I say is off the record." She dug her feet in and grabbed his belt so he didn't pull her arm off as he stopped and jerked her solidly against him.

"Okay."

Heaven's but she liked the way he kind of smiled, clearly showing he was amused.

"Okay?"

"Yeah." Again he gave her a grin before he added, "If he followed me here then he's already disabled my car."

"And since he bothered to shoot out my tires he's stranded us on purpose."

"Bingo."

She blinked a couple times before saying, "I'm right?"

"Yeah, he's a hunter. And he's got a job to do."

"A hunter?"

"Yeah, he hunts people for a living."

"And his job?" She didn't think she was going to like the answer.

"His job is to kill you. And probably now me too."

"Then I'm thinking he needs to be unemployed, and we should move and now. Think you could unlock me?"

"Not a chance."

And he grabbed her hand and took off at a slight jog, pulling her behind him.

Finally, gasping, she pulled at him with the words, "I have to rest."

"Okay," he stopped and she flopped down under a tree.

Finally, she could breathe again and she said, "And no I didn't name the car Alice for Alice Cooper."

He sat beside her and ask, "Then why?"

"Alice was the Brady Bunches' housekeeper. You ever saw it?"

"Yeah, who hasn't?"

She looked up at the tree and looked at the leaves, noted a bird that sat on a branch before she added, "I always wanted an Alice. The car was a big thing for me. I walked for a long time. I bummed rides."

"Gem Fire bummed rides?"

His voice softened.

She looked away, her face heating but she straightened her spine as she said, "Gerald, the woman's gone and I've fell a long ways from being Gem Fire. I'm Hope now, and I like being Hope. I want you to understand that."

His hand reached and took her cuffed hand. She like the way his fingers curled on top her hand, the way his thumb swept her palm as he said, "Guess that's off the record too?"

Forcing herself, she suppressed her smile and said, "Yeah, then Jim made a big deal out of giving me rides and then he gave me Alice, and she took care of me."

And she noted he looked away frowning.

Just like something pained him.

"She was a life saver."

"Rest, Hope. We need to keep moving."

He stood and turned his back away from her.

#####GF#####


	14. Chapter 14

"You ready? We need to move." 

 Gerald's body language said he was clearly on high alert, and she couldn't help but find his large frame rather handsome.

But she'd noted that fact years ago too.

Against her will she'd noticed that he was totally hot.

Looking at the thick vegetation around them, she tried to ignore that fact before she said, "Give me a second and let me find my bearings."

"We should call 911."

"Should we? I don't really want to talk to the cops. Remember I've kind of been missing for a few years." She tried to use her hands to talk and got jerked around by the cuff.

"I'm aware of that but it's time to come clean."

"No, I intend to stay missing so calling the cops isn't the way to do that."

"Gem."

"No, Hope."

"Right, Hope." His face got red. "Remember the guy that shot up your house and murdered Alice?" 

"I remember."

Gerald's voice rose and he towered over her. "Well that guy's fucking serious about killing you and taking me out too and you don't want to talk to the cops? Have you lost your mind?"

"A long time ago, about the time I married Joel and decided I wanted to be in the music business. Total insanity." She was staring him straight in the eyes.

Not backing down as she added, "And just what do you think the cops are going to do for us? Save us?"

"I don't know? Maybe they'll help keep you and me alive to see tomorrow." 

Reaching, he pulled his phone from his pocket and swiped and got black screen.

"Dead? Awe too bad." She knew she sounded smug but she didn't want to call cops.

No way did she want to call the cops.

His left cheek developed a sight tick, and he frowned.

"Nice to know you're not perfect either." Trying to cross her arms, she jerked to a stop. "And your damn cuff is annoying the hell out of me." 

He kept his face blank as he said solidly, "Point taken. But get the burner out of your pack. We're calling 911."

"DO you have to be so bossy? I mean someone just shot my house up, destroyed my guitar, and murdered Alice's tire and you've cuffed me to you like a dog on a lease and all you've done so far is order me around. I'm over it." She jerked against the cuff and he took a step toward her.

Her heart raced as he gave a half grin before saying, "Okay, right. I'm bossy and bossy will help you and me stay alive. But I'll rephrase if it makes you happy. Would you kindly get your damn dumb phone out so I can call 911 before we end up dead in a swamp in Florida."

"This isn't a swamp. And no."

"No?" 

His cheek twitched again.

"Yeah, no. Can't take the backpack off because." She jerked on the handcuff, with the words "This is in the way."

"Turn around." He ordered.

She did and she heated as his hands found the zipper and the sound of a zipper sounded, and she found that she thought about him and the sound of a zipper. Turning her, he flipped her phone on and he turned it on.

She could tell he was fighting a smile, since his lips twitched and it made her smile.

"You know your way back to town from here?"

"Of course, I've hiked all these woods."

He shook his head with the words, "Of course, you have. Since you've had plans to bug out for a while. Okay, by all means, lead the way."

He waved his hand as he said, "Damn your phone is dead too."

"I have a charger in the bag."

"And we would be plugging it in where?"

"How about in town though this would be easier if you would just unlock me."

She held out her wrist, looking unexpectedly.

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head, then stuffed the dead dumb phone in his front pocket then reached his hand out and said, "We need to move."

"Okay, I know we're close to the Suwannee Springs Bridge, and we can cross the water on the old Hwy 129 bridge."

"There's another bridge over the Suwannee?"

"Yeah, the bridge was built in the early 30's and that part of the highway's abandoned. It's a good hike and we'll have to cross some water."

"You've hiked it in the past?"

She looked over her glasses at him before saying, "I've lived here for almost three years. Yeah, I've hiked this area a lot. And town's not far from the bridge. But since I don't want to get lost in these woods, and the going will be hard, you're not leading the way."

"Fair enough."

"This would be easier if you would unlock me."

Again she raised her wrist and gave him a seriously sweet smile.

How she hoped she was getting to him. 

Then he crushed her hopes with the words, "Keep dreaming, Sunshine."

"Sunshine?" She found she couldn't stop her small smile.

His voice went husky.

"Yeah, I always thought you shown bright like sunshine when you truly smiled. Can't say I'm that fond of the name Hope. But if that's what you want to call yourself, I can do it."

She ducked her head and remembered to breathe as she warmed all over before she said, "At the time the name seemed fitting. I had to have a new name."

Without preamble, his hand cupped her cheek, and he said violently, "I should have never have put you in that car. I knew I shouldn't have done it."

"It wasn't your fault. It was your job and besides I told you to get on the bus." She looked up at him liking his touch, savoring it for an instant before reaching and pushing his hand away as she added the words, "Why don't we just not do this?"

His face hardened before he said, "Yes, we do. It was my job to keep you safe. I was your body guard, and I let you get in that damn car with him. How stupid could I be?"

"He was my husband."

She couldn't look him in the face.

"I don't care. He was high and drunk, and I knew it."

"Talking about it doesn't change things. Look we need to get going. It's going to get dark soon. And I want to make town before that."

They were in deep woods now and she knew it was about to get deeper.

Again, she held up the cuff up before she said, "This would be easier if you'd cut me lose."

He shook his head and gave her a hard look.

"Not even sorry, since I don't trust you not to run."

"I've never done anything to make you not trust me." She kept her voice level.

"Well you sure didn't go out of your way to let me know you were alive. And I've got a feeling if I give you any chance at all you'll be gone."

She looked down and then away since she knew he was right. The last thing she was going to do was hang with Gerald.

The trees were thick here, the light low and she was having a problem seeing the trail.

The Spanish moss hung heavy in the trees and air ferns grew. Stopping, she surveyed the area.

Ferns grew everywhere and the ground felt boggy beneath her feet. Moving again, she stepped over patches of water and birds startled and flew away.

"Gerald," she hated to ask but she had to. Biting her lip, she blurted out, "I need to pee. You need to unlock me."

He stopped and she jerked back as he became an immobile object jerking her to a solid stop.

"You have to pee?"

His voice sounded strained.

"Yeah."

She watched him swallow hard and close his eyes for an instant before he said, "Well me too."

Grinning slightly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a key and in a matter of seconds, she found herself unlocked and locked to a tree.

"I'll give you a few minutes and be back."

Then he walked away and she took care of business.

Coming back, he quickly uncuffed her and then locked her to him again.

It was over before she'd time to fight.

Jim would be disappointed, and she was too, since she'd meant to escape him during that time.

But he'd been quick, too quick.

And he gave her a tug and pulled her into his body for an instant and she allowed it, for a moment.

She wasn't sure who pulled away first.

Him or her, before he said, "Lead the way."

Turning, she pulled him up the hAill with the words, "We're coming up to the old highway. It won't be long now."

He was hanging back as they reached what used to be the old highway. Pulling her to a stop, he said, "Wait. Listen. Somethings not right."

And realized that the woods were quiet.

Never a good sign and she froze, biting her bottom lip, just as she turned swiftly to said, "Too quiet," just as the tree exploded in splinters beside her head. Gerald jerked her behind him and they were running again with bullets kicking up the dirt in their wake.

#####GF######

 

 

 


End file.
